


He Eats Spiders

by Cyrus_The_Virus, violentlypan



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, Alternate Universe - My Hero Academia Fusion, Dead Midoriya Hisashi, Dont copy to another site, Gen, also he has natural webs, and is in the fandom, bare in mind i have no clue what im actually doing, because dammit i like his cool suit, but ive watched enough tv to know what im doing, daredevil still has his weapons, editor is secretly the author, get that fake shit out of here, i have not watched any spiderman movies, so it should be okay, spiderman exists in the bnha universe, well the editor has watched a lot of spiderman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2019-10-06 08:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrus_The_Virus/pseuds/Cyrus_The_Virus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentlypan/pseuds/violentlypan
Summary: Peter Parker is many things.But a legal superhero is not one of them. His vigilantism isn't exactly allowed due to Quirk laws.Which means, of course, his aunt is making him enroll in a hero school so he doesn't potentially go to jail. He might as well go to the best one if he's going to a hero school.Join Peter as he stumbles his way through hero school in Japan at the turn of an era.





	1. exposition is hard

Peter sat on a windowpane, feet pressed against the sheer surface. The moon shone brightly over him as he looked down from his vantage point, scanning the city and listening to his local newsfeed through his mask. His pencil scratched over the second of two notes-  _I'll be back in a couple years, but hold down the fort for me, okay? -Spidey._

He heard the faint  _shfff_ of a window opening, but paid it no mind; it was downtown New York, after all, and it was just another noise in the crowd.

"Hey! Get the hell off my building before I report you to the police!" someone who Peter assumed was the building owner yelled, sticking his head out the window. Peter jumped, scrambling away from him and hastily shoving the note into his mask. He wished, not for the first time, that his spidey-sense didn't only warn him of physical threats, and that his suit had pockets.

"Uh. Yeah, you do that," he nodded quickly. "I've never been one to tangle with the NYPD, though, so..." He leapt from the wall and free-fell for a few seconds, feeling the wind rush past his mask as the ground grew closer and closer. 

Peter reveled in the intoxicating feeling of flying through the air. The bright lights of the street below him, the sleek panes of glass to his sides, the brilliant inky black sky above him. Peter could almost imagine he was back in his dreams. 

He closed his eyes, mind drifting to better times. 

Better times when Uncle Ben was still alive. Better times before the spider bite.

Better times.

His eyes snapped open. He snapped his wrist out, shooting strong webbing from an opening in his wrist, and watched carefully as it snagged the tip of a building; he whooped as he hit the bottom of his arc, so close to the street he could reach a hand out and touch it, before the webbing brought him hurtling back up through the air. He let go and let himself arc through the air, letting out a whoop as he tucked himself into a backflip in midair. It was invigorating, and  _wow,_ it was late. He had better drop his things off. 

Peter slung his way into Hell's Kitchen, and searched the area for a moment.  _Nelson & Murdock... Nelson & Murdock... ah, there it is, Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law. _Daredevil's place. He dropped to the ground in front of the door, ignoring the  _oohs_ of a few New Yorkers who were up late, and removed the notes from his mask. He folded them, smoothed them, and scrawled  _To Deadpool_ on one,  _To Daredevil_ on the other. Dropped them on the doorstep, hit the doorbell, and leapt back into the sky without his usual vigor; it was sobering, to think that he'd really be leaving everyone behind. At least he could still chat with MJ and Ned, and Tony would keep him updated.

He kept swinging until he found the nearest Metro stop, and decided that that would be faster than crossing the river to Queens, even with his Quirk. 

 

- 

 

The subway was, as most New York subways are at 11 pm, filled with three people reading their phone and one person passed out on the seat next to them. None of them looked up when Peter climbed aboard, and he spent the ride responding to the million-and-a-half text messages that Aunt May was sending him.

_Where are you?_

_Peter, if you're out spidering agian_

_Peter_

_Peter Benjamin Parker, you still have homework to do and dinner to eat_

_Where are you_

_Are you okay_

_Should I call the police_

_Peter I saw you on the news_

_image0.jpg_

_Peter where are you_

_**I'm okay, Aunt May. I'm on my way**   **home**._

The train dinged, and he glanced up as it announced another stop. 

_Good_

_Don't make me worry like that again_

_Youre giving me gray hairs_

**_Sorry :)_ **

Another person got on, with a toddler next to her, who lit up when he saw Peter. "Spiderman!"

"That's me, kiddo. What do you need?" Peter asked, smiling and leaning forward.

"Mommy said you're illegal and a men- menace!"

 _Oof._ That felt worse than a shot in the chest.

His eyes widened, glancing up at the woman, who flushed and turned away. "I.. I'm sorry about him. He doesn't know what he's saying."

Peter put a hand on his chest. He kneeled down in front of the toddler. 

"Well, I may be illegal, but I'm not a menace," Peter said. He looked up at the mother. He didn't blame her. She'd probably been listening to J. J. Jameson's radio station too long. A  _ding_ sounded through the train car, the conductor on the PA system saying something about the next stop. Peter smiled; his destination was next. 

"Say, kid. Why don't you tell me what you like to do. You seem like a wonderful person," Peter said. He sat down cross-legged next to the toddler. He listened animatedly as the three-year-old went on and on about his favorite dinosaur toy.

A  _ding_ went through the train again. Peter stood up- it was time to go. 

"Sorry kiddo, but I gotta cut this talk short! This is my stop! Keep chasing those dreams of a dinosaur for a pet! I'm sure someday they'll bring them back to life!" Peter yelled, racing out into the station. He waved at the smiling boy and ran up the stairs. 

Peter burst onto the street, cars honking and moving past. He turned his head, eyes widening as he saw a police officer a few yards away. Thankfully their back was turned, but Peter didn't want to tangle with a cop that had an alligator head. 

Peter ran the other way, head turning this way and that in search of buildings he could swing to. It was good that he had improved night vision. Who knows what would have happened if he didn't? He turned a corner and slammed into a wall. Perfect. He started climbing up; if he got high enough he could swing his way into an alley by his apartment with Aunt May.

Peter swung from building to building. His wrists were getting sore and he could feel his web glands starting to dry up. He was lucky that he didn't see anything that needed his help, and that no policemen saw him.

He pushed his body up, up, up into the air, letting go of the web string. He soared through the brisk air, going higher, then spiraling lower only to do it all over again. He shot another string of web out, pulling himself through the air. 

Peter finally reached his shared apartment with Aunt May a few minutes later. He landed on the complex wall and started to climb to the fire escape. He crawled in through the window and started to change out of his spider suit. 

"Peter? You home?" Aunt May yelled. Peter didn't look up from changing out of his suit.

"Yeah, I am!" he yelled back. Peter hopped around on one foot trying to get the suit off his leg. 

"There's dinner in the microwave for you! Make sure you do your homework! And don't give any of that 'but Aunt May, I'm not even going to be here in a few days' bull!" 

Peter tripped on his suit leg and fell on the floor with a  _thump._  

"Okay, Aunt May!"

"Make sure you remember that talk we had about how you're going to act when we get to your relatives' house!" Aunt May yelled, reminding Peter of their inevitable move to Japan.

"Yes, Aunt May! I'll remember!" Peter shouted down the hall. 

"Alright Petey, I'm going to sleep before they call me back to the office. You know the rules!" Aunt May said, the easily recognizable sound of a door closing echoed through the apartment.

Peter sighed, grabbing the leftovers from the microwave. Life was good, he supposed. He may not have acted like it, but he was excited to see his cousins. He only vaguely remembered Aunt Inko and her son Izuku- he was lucky they were even funding this move, and that Daredevil would take over for him. (He hoped.)

Uncle Ben always said that he and Izuku looked similar. Uncle Hisashi was always nice. 

In a way, losing Uncle Hisashi a year or so after Uncle Ben was almost poetic. 

Peter sighed, washing the empty plate in the sink, letting it drop into the drying rack, and going back to his room to do homework. He would have to finish packing tomorrow.


	2. dickord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hhhh

The plane was worse than he’d expected.

 

Security was okay, though Peter had had to install security screens over his emergency web shooters the night before so that they didn’t detect them. But as soon as he got into the plane, the rumbling of the engine filled up every space in his head and blocked out every thought. He was completely unresponsive through the whole safety speech, and as soon as they got into the air, May leaned over and pulled his earbuds out of his pack, but he barely noticed until they were actually in his ears and Karen was blocking out _everything._

 

He sighed in relief, and tapped on the earbuds to indicate that he was doing better, and Karen gradually let some of the noise in. May was leaning worriedly over to him. “Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter said, gazing out the window as he watched New York disappear behind them. “I’ll be fine.”

 

\----------------

 

Free in-flight wifi was _fantastic._ Peter had watched three episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, posted one update to @defnotspidey twitter about leaving New York, and received approximately 129418974178957973987595797 Discord messages from one Ned Leeds, one Mary-Jane, and one _Tony Stark,_ of all people, who evidently had made himself a Discord just for the occasion (at least, judging by the “I’m new to Discord, say hi!” that Peter got when he tapped his name.) He’d also eaten approximately 1034 pretzels and uncountable complementary cheese-and-cracker squares- though if you asked May, she’d tell you that he’d pretty much just eaten the cheese and hidden the crackers in a Ziploc for later.

 

The sun was up, and the clouds below looked like thick drifts of snow covering the landscape. The engine’s roar was only background noise now, and half the flight was sleeping while the other half was watching some nature show- Peter saw _at least three_ consecutive rows in front of him were watching the small puppy on the screen tumble around. He couldn’t blame them. If he wasn’t busy chatting with Ned and MJ, the former of whom was excitedly rambling about how he’d seen-

 

gintc Today at 12:33

 _Daredevil_ running around, Peter, you should have been there-

 

pepe pete Today at 12:33

yeah ned i know he was running around

i asked him to be running around

 

badassbitch Today at 12:34

why

 

pepe pete Today at 12:35

beacause im leaving n i need someone to watch the city??? whos gonna beat up _wilson fisk_ while im gone

 

gintc Today at 12:35

mj

 

pepe pete Today at 12:36

…………………...valid

 

badassbitch Today at 12:36

if we beat up wilson fisk then the whole city’s black market would collapse, hes the only one keeping order

 

gintc Today at 12:37

……….. _we_

 

pepe pete Today at 12:37

actually that’s fair

yeah he does keep control of the mafia

could we take out the mafia first

 

gintc Today at 12:38

PETER @pepe pete  


pepe pete Today at 12:39

what

 

gintc Today at 12:39

WHAT IF WE BECAME MAFIA MEMBERS

 

pepe pete Today at 12:39

im _spiderman_ wtf do you think will happen

the police would catch me immediately

n id let them bc id feel bad

 

badassbitch Today at 12:40

parker im pretty sure ud never join the mafia in the first place

ur too pure

u still worship tony stank

 

pepe pete Today at 12:40

i dont _worship_ him

i work with him

 

badassbitch Today at 12:40

<image1.jpg>  
  
(It’s a picture of a Discord conversation between Tony and Peter. Tony is praising him for good work in the lab and Peter is replying with near-infinite smiley faces.)   


pepe pete Today at 12:41

…………….how did u get that

that was a private chat

**_NED_ **

 

gintc Today at 12:42

what

i didnt do anything !!

 

pepe pete Today at 12:42

my antimalware is pinging me >:(

it says im being hacked from _midtown, new york_

care to explain

 

hacker bitch Today at 12:43

i didnt do anything

HEY

 

gintc Today at 12:43

u cant change my name

 

pepe pete Today at 12:44

yeah i can

u gonna stop me

 

hacker bitch Today at 12:44

>:(

 

pepe pete Today at 12:45

someone’s talking over the loudspeaker hang on

pepe pete 12:45

theres some turbulence n the wifis going out

ill ttyl i guess

love u

 

hacker bitch 12:46

love u!!! stay safe uwu

 

Peter closed Discord and leaned back in his chair. “Karen,” he whispered, “tune out everything except for the flight attendants and pilot, okay? I’m gonna nap.”  


“ _Okay, Peter,”_ Karen said, and the dull roar of the engine and the snores of the person in the aisle seat disappeared. Peter shut the window and took off his hoodie, balling it up and sandwiching it between the wall and his head. He exhaled, and shut his eyes.

 

Sleep didn’t come fast, though. Instead, he turned something over and over again in his mind- how would he keep his identity a secret at UA? He couldn’t very well change back and forth. People knew Spiderman’s quirks, and UA was highly publicized. Plus, people _knew_ Spiderman was going to Tokyo.

 

Peter couldn’t just be _Peter._ People would find out that Peter was Spidey, and that was never good. But what if Peter didn’t exist as Peter… but as Spiderman?   


People would analyze his quirk, sure. It would put him in more danger when he got home, but no more than it would have otherwise. As long as nobody worse than the Vulture attacked him… he’d be okay. And the Avengers were there for people worse than the Vulture, right?

 

Daredevil and Deadpool would have his back. Nothing could go _that_ wrong.


	3. fighty fighty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entrance exams!!

Peter woke just as the plane touched down, the jolt from impact rousing him. He groggily sat back up, rubbed his eyes, and picked up his sweater from where it had fallen. Karen had helpfully tuned him back in to what was happening, and he vaguely listened to the flight attendants saying something about _nihon e yakuza,_ which he realized he misheard after Karen informed him, “She says welcome to Japan.”

 

Aunt May smiled. “You doing okay? You were out for about ten hours.”

 

“Seriously?” he groaned, putting his phone in his pocket and taking the earbuds out. “Eugh. Okay, gimme a second.” He shoved the hoodie into his backpack, and wedged his laptop- which had been stowed in the seat pocket- behind it.

 

\-------------

 

The airport was near-empty, which made sense- it was nearly three am in Japan, so that flight was the only one there. People of all colors and Quirks exited the airplane, some flicking tails groggily, others chatting quietly.

 

They passed through the transport survey area- a _three-page Quirk sheet,_ good God, that Peter lied on- and made their way to the taxi service area, where May checked her wallet nervously. They’d already gotten everything they needed- cell service, money exchange, etc- before their trip, but they were running low on money, so she winced a little as she reached into her wallet for the 3200 yen that the cab cost. Aunt May had had to find a temporary job, helping at the local homeless shelter, so that she could pay for their rent and Aunt Inko didn’t have to pay too much for it.

 

Peter loaded all their luggage into the name of the cab, settling into the backseat to stare out the window. It was going to be a long few hours, and he wasn’t falling asleep anytime soon. No new Discord pings were coming his way- probably since his phone was still adjusting to the new time zone and network- so he adjusted his web shooters instead and let Karen play his music into his ears. He watched the scenery flash past, and wondered what Mustafu would look like as he pulled his phone back out and opened Solitaire.

 

\-----------------

 

Fourteen losses and one (1) win later, he glanced up as the car slowed. They were outside of a little apartment building, the sun starting to peek over the horizon. May thanked the taxi driver, and Peter climbed out. The dawn air was chilly, and he pulled his hoodie back over his head before opening the trunk and taking their things out.

 

“I can take one,” May offered, and Peter shrugged.

 

“If you’re sure.” He let go of one of the suitcases, and May took the handle. They climbed the stairs in relative silence, each letting out yawns sporadically. When they got to the top, May took a second to breathe.

 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, pulling the mask over his head. Since Izuku didn’t know that he and Spiderman were the same person, he would keep his mask on for most things.

 

“I’m fine. Just give me a second.” She exhaled, then knocked on the door. Immediately, a shorter boy with messy green hair opened it, then smiled awkwardly at Peter. His eyes widened, though, and he said something in Japanese that Peter didn’t recognize, but Karen translated- “ _Spiderman!_ Oh my god, it’s really you! Okay- hang on, let me get Mom, do you even speak Japanese, oh shoot, sorry- but oh my God, Spiderman’s at my apartment, what do I do what do I do what do I _do…_ ”

“Karen, can you filter what I say into Japanese?” Peter said under his breath, the words coming out warm against the fabric of the mask, then addressed the kid directly- “Hi! Uh, I think I’m staying next door for a bit, and cou- uh, we just wanted to say hi!”

 

He cast a glance over his shoulder, where May was standing, looking a little bemused. “Konnichiha?” she said, stuttering on a couple syllables. Peter smiled sympathetically, then remembered they couldn’t see under the mask.

 

“Uh, so, just let A- er, your mom know that May and I are here, and that we say hi,” Peter awkwardly said, trying not to mess up despite the mask translating him live.

 

He had no idea how to deal with this- casting his eyes around the room, he could already see a stack of journals lying on the table, a couple open- he could see popular Japanese and American heroes, and dear God, was that a _sketch of him?_ Yep, that was definitely a sketch of him, webbing something up. Down one hall, a Spiderman poster had been haphazardly tacked over by a massive All Might poster, and that was _weird_ to think about- he was definitely an illegal hero and had no idea how Izuku would know he existed, much less have a _poster_ of him. He squinted at the notebook, where the words “Web-Slinger” were printed.

 

“Did you _name_ my Quirk?”

 

“No- uh, other people were theorizing about it, and, uh, that was what was used, I mean, we called it Web-Slinger and is that okay with you? People are doing lots of investigation into it and by the way are you really illegal and when did you get your quirk?”  


Wow. “Uh, yeah, I’m technically. Not supposed to be going around doing this. So I’m going to UA so I can do it legally. You can call it Web-Slinger, I guess? I got my quirk… when I was eleven, I think.” Peter felt uncomfortable lying about it, not to mention the fact that people were _theorizing about him,_ but that was better than letting this fanboy get his hands on his personal information. “I haven’t been Spiderman as long as I’ve had the Quirk, though.”

 

“That’s _so cool!_ I’m gonna go to UA, too!!! We can be classmates!! _”_ Izuku exclaimed, and Peter wondered if the phone he was fidgeting with was _recording._ He carefully leaned on the doorframe, putting himself squarely out of the recording range. It was cold and rigid under his shoulder.

 

“Thanks, uh, kid. Anyway. We’d better, uh, be off. See ya.” Peter said, waving as he backed away from the doorway and turned around. He swore he heard a little gasp as he turned, and sighed mentally. May grinned sympathetically at Izuku and followed Peter out of the room.

 

“That was awkward,” he exhaled as soon as the door was closed with a _creeaaak_ and a quiet closing noise.

 

“We can just move in, Peter. It’s okay. We don’t have to go over much.”

 

“I don’t want to make him feel bad,” he said, as May fished the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. Boxes were already stacked inside, but Peter didn’t have the energy to unpack them. Instead, he unzipped one of the suitcases and ravenously devoured three or four energy bars while May got herself a glass of water. She made a face at the state of the cup, then dumped the water out and scrubbed it with her sleeve. The floor was dusty and covered in flecks of things that looked like they were from the Mesozoic, and the couch looked worn and stained. The table was covered in… _something,_ and the chairs were rickety and old.

 

“Well, it’s a bit of a fixer-upper,” May sighed. Peter nodded, trying to open a door and peek inside. The doorknob came off in his hand as soon as he touched it. “What did I tell you about not using super-strength in the house?”

  
“I wasn’t,” Peter protested, putting the doorknob back onto the door and trying to get it back into place. “I touched it and it fell off.” Failing the doorknob, he shot a web at the door and yanked it open. Inside was the most primitive, mold-covered bathroom ever, and he winced. “I’m not going anywhere _near_ that. Karen, turn the suit’s air filter on, please?”

 

May peeked in, immediately winced, and walked back to the kitchen, to a box labelled _BASIC BAKING SUPPLIES._ She pulled out some flour and poured it into the cup she had polished; she added water and some salt and vinegar, mixed it all with the end of a rusted and dull spoon, and walked back to the bathroom. “We can’t live like this,” she groaned, dumping it onto the toilet seat and scrubbing at it with a roll of paper towels that seemed to magically appear next to her, then turned her attentions to the sink. “We can live without a shower for a bit, but we need basic hygiene, dammit.” Peter pulled back the shower curtain to find ants in the shower; he shot a taser web at them and winced as they were fried, then turned the shower on and watched them go down the drain.

 

“So she’s a bit of a fixer upper,” Peter sang, and May jumped in.

 

“That’s a minor thing-”

“This quote ‘engagement’ is-”

 

“-A flex arrangement-”

 

“And by the way, I don’t see no _ring!_ ”

 

The song carried them through sterilizing the toilet seat with rubbing alcohol, clearing some mildew off the mirror, and reattaching the doorknob with a screwdriver. Peter moved on to clearing the ceiling of cobwebs, and May went to go unpack some essentials and clean everything in the dishwasher; once Peter finished, he opened another door and went to work there. It took hours, and at some point May had to stop and put on gloves and a dust mask because _Peter Benjamin Parker, I am_ **_not_ ** _going to touch that couch with anything less than a_ **_hazmat suit,_ **but the apartment gradually became liveable in the most basic senses.

 

Their beds were laid out, fitted with new sheets, and fumigated with household chemicals to kill bedbugs; the oven had been swept of anything that could get into their food and give them asbestos poisoning; the carpet vacuumed and the dead plants revived to full bloom with a touch from May’s Healing quirk. There were still boxes littered around the place, but Uncle Ben’s photograph was on a wall, a Bluetooth speaker that Peter had rebuilt was playing Disney tunes, and May was sweeping the last of the debris on the kitchen floor into a bag. The spoons were soaking in a vinegar-and-salt bath.

 

They’d make do for a few weeks until the UA entrance exams.

 

-

 

Peter was _ready_ for the entrance exams. He had his mask, his emergency webs, his suit- fully charged from newly-implanted solar panels. Everything he would need.

 

And yet, when a tall man informed them in a booming voice- that Karen helpfully toned down- that they would be fighting, and that _not everyone would get in,_ he somehow felt unprepared.

 

So when they announced he would be going up against a group of enhanced kids- _naturally enhanced kids-_ and Izuku, who was quirkless, he had to take a few deep breaths. Of course, he didn’t want to hurt them. But as soon as they were in the arena, and starting without a countdown, Peter took a second on a rooftop to come up with a strategy.

 

He couldn’t compete with the kid blowing small explosions around the place from his legs, or the French guy who was shooting the bots with his navel laser. But he _did_ have Karen, so he grinned for a second. “Karen, launch Droney and see if he can figure out how these work. Any weak spots.”

 

“ _Yes, Peter,”_ Karen said as the little black drone on the front of his suit detached and flew off into battle.

 

Peter leapt from the rooftop and at the nearest bot, who was approaching the kid with engine legs. He didn’t notice, and Peter yelped, “Watch out!” as he yanked the kid out of the way with a web. He shot a taser web at the creature, and its eyes went dark.

 

“ _Peter, Droney has found that overloading the creatures with energy will lead to a near-instant-_ ”

 

“Got that, Karen, thanks,” Peter grunted as he shot himself down another alley with a quick web zip and drove his heels into another bot, leaping off of it into a gainer and zapping it. Behind the bot he found Izuku, looking confused and bewildered as another stampeded towards him. “Izuku!” he warned as he shot a taser web past his face, accidentally shooting another towards a kid with purple grape-like objects on his head. The kid yelped and ducked, then stayed like that; Peter wasn’t sure why until he saw a girl with some sort of anti-gravity Quirk leaping towards another bot, and he hissed, “Hey, stop looking up her skirt!” as he webbed the kid to a wall. Droney had finally returned to his suit, and he took off back down the street.

 

“Thanks,” the girl said relieved as he swung past her.

 

“No problem. The name’s Spidey if you need anything,” Peter said, more automatic than anything, but she gave him a real grin.

 

“My name’s Uraraka. Stay safe.”

 

“Sure,” Peter called back, already an alley ahead. He squinted as he saw a boy with rock-hard skin punch a bot, and it growled back at him, unfazed; Peter tasered it and slung past, giving a salute to the kid he’d saved. Nearby, the engine-legged kid watched him serenely as the

 

“ _Peter, you have an estimated 22 points in attack and 34 in rescue.”_

 

“Thanks, Karen,” Peter said, then whipped around as his Spidey-Sense jolted its way up his spine. A hulking creature was in front of him. Its arm hurled down at him, and Peter grunted as he caught the brunt of the blow with his hands, pushing up against the creature and throwing it to the ground. His senses pinged again, and he realized he was about to crush the perv he webbed up earlier; desperately, he yelped, “Karen, splitter web!” and caught the bot right before it hit the shrieking boy. “Sorry- don’t have a dissolution fluid yet!” Peter apologized to the kid, and raced off down another alley, springing into the air and tasing two more bots. The laser boy was on the ground, vomiting, and Peter stopped a second to ask if he wanted help (he didn’t) before continuing to try and grab as many points as he could.

 

Then he stopped dead. The kid he’d seen earlier- Uraraka- was trapped under fallen rubble, unable to get up. Another zero-point monster was bearing down on her, but as soon as he crouched to spring into battle, his spider-sense flared. He whipped around, finding a two-point on his tail- he zapped it, and turned back just in time to see Izuku _leaping,_ his legs looking brutally shattered. _How did he even get off the ground with legs broken that badly?_ A trail of green energy was making its way up his arm, and as soon as it did, he _punched-_

 

And the monster fell over, downed by a single punch, and Izuku was falling, his arm as heavily mutilated as his legs. Peter was already jumping to catch him when Uraraka beat him to the punch, tapping him with a finger so he stabilized in midair. She was freefalling now, and Peter caught her easily and let her down to the ground- she was light as a feather, and he immediately looked over at the green-haired kid. The word “arigato” wasn’t even halfway out of her mouth before Peter was running to Izuku.

 

“Izuku! Are you okay? Does anyone have a healing Quirk? Anyone!”

The boy with rocket legs sprinted to them, and Peter realized they had a bit of an audience. “We need to get him to a healer! Thank you for saving Uraraka.”

 

“The exams are now over! Congratulations to everyone,” a loud voice roared over the loudspeakers, effectively cutting them off. A screen flickered to life, with ten finalists on it.

 

_Bakugo Katsuki_

_Kirishima Eijiro_

_Uraraka Ochaco_

_Shiozaki Ibara_

_Spider_

  
Peter winced. His name was definitely _not_ Spider, but it would do better than _Peter Parker._

 

_Kendo Itsuka_

_Iida Tenya_

_Midoriya Izuku_

 

The boy who was most definitely blacked out in his arms deserved to win something. He was happier for Izuku than he’d thought he’d be.

 

_Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu_

_Tokoyami Fumikage_

 

Peter tapped his mask. “Karen? Is that a mistranslation? No way someone’s name is Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu.”

 

_“Recalculating. There is a 101% chance it is correct, with a 1% margin of error.”_

 

“Thanks,” he grumbled. “Helpful.”

 

_“My pleasure, Peter.”_

 

“Who are you talking to, Spiderman?” the boy next to him with the engine legs asked. “Who’s Karen?”

 

“Ah, nobody!” he said hastily. “Just, uh, my suit. I named it Karen. It helps me translate things.”

 

“Does it give you your quirk?” the grape-headed boy asked, his eyes narrowing.

 

“Nope, that’s all me!” Which was a _lie,_ and it hurt to say when all he could think of was the full day of vomiting and shaking, but he had a secret identity, dammit.

 

“All right, everyone out of the arena!” the loud person said, who Peter remembered had a name along the lines of Presidation Mick or something. “The exams are over. Anyone with injuries go to see Recovery Girl.”

 

Peter stood for a second, gauging the soreness in his heels. His arm was bruised from a swinging mishap, but it would heal quick. He followed the engine boy and Uraraka, instead, to the main gates. The engine boy walked quickly; Uraraka walked slower, behind him, and Peter tried to slow down and keep a healthy medium.

 

“Nice job today, Spidey!” Uraraka said from behind him, and he could practically _hear_ a smile in her voice. “Thanks for the help.”

 

“No problem, Uraraka!” Peter grinned, then realized she couldn’t see him. “See you later, I guess, when we get our class assignments?”

 

“Sure!”

 

“My name’s Iida, by the way,” the engine-legged boy said, turning and walking backwards so Peter could see his expression, which was neutral for the time being. “Thank you for making sure that Midoriya is safe.”

 

“No problem, Iida! I’ll see you when the scores come out,” Peter grinned. He shot a pair of finger-guns at Iida, then sprung over the gate, catching a nearby building with a web and whooping as he felt wind fluttering past. It was _so_ much better to fly on one’s own than to be trapped in a big metal sardine can in the sky.

  
“Karen, plot me a route to the apartment, as the spider swings,” he instructed, and a blue line popped up in his mask, directing him over buildings nearly due northeast. With a final web zip, he set off for his temporary house.


	4. class 1 a bitches

Peter opened his window and slid into the apartment. “Aunt May? I’m back!” 

 

There was no response, just a weird hissing noise. Peter’s spider-sense didn’t go off, but his anxiety definitely did, so he crept into the kitchen as silently as he could.

 

The hissing sound, as it happened, turned out to be the sink, spurting intermittent blasts of water. The faucet lay in several pieces on the floor, and on the counter there was a note with no signs of Aunt May. Peter picked it up. 

“Out to get groceries. Behave. Love, May.” he read aloud. “Great. Then this mess is mine to clean up.”

 

He stared at his hands for a second. “Karen, is there a way I can make my webs permanent?”

 

_ “That is not a setting I can help you with right now. However, I have the capability to create new web settings based on chemical formula. If you code a program to add strength to your webs by adding a new chemical component, I can help you with that.”  _ That was no good. Peter didn’t have time for that- the water bill would skyrocket if he took that kind of time.

 

“Remind me of that later, Karen. Uh, for now, text May and let her know the situation, please. And, uh, do we have any duct tape?”

 

“ _ Duct tape is in a box. I have highlighted both the box and the tape inside.” _

 

“Great, thanks, Karen.” He turned, and squinted a little at the highlighted box, which was at the very bottom of a pile of heavy boxes. “Fan _ tastic. _ Why me.” 

 

Fourteen boxes later, he made it to the bottom, where he ripped the box open. “Karen, unhighlight the box- keep the duct tape highlighted.” He pulled out a pair of needle nose pliers, set the kitchen shears next to him, and put the four or five rolls of packing tape on top of them. The duct tape was under them, cold to the touch, and he sighed a little before walking back over to the broken faucet.

 

It took a good half the roll, but finally he got the sink back in working order. Just as May walked through the door, with groceries.

 

“Peter! Everything went okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine, May,” he said, even as she hugged him. 

 

And then the tape burst, the faucet burst, and water sprayed everywhere.

 

“Shit.” Peter exhaled.

 

“ _ Language,  _ Peter,” Aunt May chided, trying to tape over it. It wasn’t working, and Peter pulled his mask back on.

 

“Karen, do I have anything heated?”

 

_ “Your suit is capable of heating up to 100 degrees Fahrenheit in order to keep you warm, Peter.” _

 

“Perfect. May, give me a few minutes, hang on!” He ran over and grabbed the pliers, the kitchen shears, and a paper clip that was lying on the counter. Then he pulled the suit off, cut away a piece of fabric next to the electronics in the feet, and got to work prying off the cover and taking the heater out.

 

“Okay, Karen!” he said, his mask still on. “Give me an electric web.”

 

He attached the web to the heater, which turned on. It started heating up. “Karen, now that I’ve disconnected it from its limiter, how hot can it go?”

 

“ _ Five hundred Fahrenheit, Peter.” _

 

“All right. Highlight the closest objects made out of 80% or more tin, please,” Peter said, putting the heater on a countertop as it warmed up. “May, don’t touch that, you’ll burn yourself.”

 

“Peter, what are you trying to do?” May asked concernedly, struggling under the sink to turn the water off.

 

“Don’t worry about it! Uhh, I got this. Under control. Definitely.” He picked up the paper clip, along with a couple spare wires and a spare wheel coupling from a suitcase. He slid a gardening glove over his hand. Then, he picked up the faucet, and touched one of the wires to the heater, wincing as his hand immediately started to get uncomfortably hot.

 

“May, can you, uh, grab me a bowl of water?” Peter called, pressing the melting tin wire to the faucet, using it as a makeshift soldering tool. He held the steel gingerly, careful not to drop any tin on his hand. He did it again, pressing the two sides of the faucet together. Then he dunked it into the bowl of water, hearing the  _ ssssssss _ of rapidly cooling metal.

 

“Peter, this isn’t a  _ lab. _ ”

 

“I know, May, but it’s working!” he said, attaching the larger piece to the remaining bit. Then he put the whole thing back into the water, giving it a longer time the second time around. Finally, he sprayed web dissolution over the heater, which dissolved the electric web and turned the heater off. 

 

With the soldering done, he took the faucet and, with a decent amount of struggling, managed to fit it back into the pipe. Then he yanked his mask off, and pulled the gardening glove off of his hand. It was red, and he put his hand in the bowl of water with an exhale.

 

“All right, so it’s a  _ lot  _ of a fixer-upper,” Peter sighed.

 

“We should talk to the landlord about this!”

 

“May, he’s not gonna do anything about it. He’s a  _ landlord. _ ”

 

“Peter,” May said reproachfully, and Peter immediately regretted all his life choices.He sighed, jumping onto the ceiling upside down. “Not all landlords ignore everyone’s problems.”   
  
“Yeah, well. You can talk to the landlord if you want,” Peter said. “I think we can deal with this, though, you know?”

 

“All right. Now, let’s see how many of our groceries are unsoaked and edible.”

 

Peter hopped back onto the floor and moved some aside, carefully going through a bag. “I think we can salvage most of the eggs and some of the bananas. The bread is dripping, though.”

 

“All right, put the bread in the oven, we’ll warm it up and dry it while we work on omelettes. The tomatoes are fine, and so are most of the vegetables I could get. Do we have cheese?”   
  


“No,” he said, checking the fridge. “No cheese.”

 

“All right, then fried eggs with tomatoes and vegetables,” May said, and Peter felt his stomach dip. May was never the best cook, and that meal wouldn’t be nearly caloric enough to satisfy his metabolic needs. But it was what they had, so Peter shrugged. 

 

“Sure.”

 

\----------------------------

 

Peter was right, of course. Eight hours later, not only was he starving again, but May’s request had been left on read. To make matters worse, Mr. Stark had texted, asking what the hell he was thinking by leaving Deadpool and Daredevil to do the job, and that thirty criminals had been killed yesterday for petty crimes. Peter texted Deadpool, writing _Hey, stop killing people._ His response had been _Well, they’ve stopped committing crimes! B)_ so Peter definitely wasn’t making any headway there. 

 

But at least, two weeks of excruciating boredom and cheap home repairs later, the results had  _ officially  _ come out. He’d received a letter stamped very officially with  **_UA HIGHSCHOOL,_ ** and had to promptly remember that he was Spiderman, attending a high school, very publicly. He winced.

  
Peter had been avoiding social media like the plague for the past 2 weeks. As soon as the first messages of  _ Are you seriously a highschooler?  _ popped into his Twitter inbox, he’d turned off notifications and abandoned his social media folder on his phone. He’d have to respond to it eventually, of course, but he was sticking by the “cut toxic things out of your life 2K19” mentality for now. 

 

Ignoring the stamp, he opened the letter carefully, trying not to rip the paper. He failed miserably at that attempt, and felt a little tinge of irritation. There were several papers, each cleanly folded in half, and Peter gently unfolded the first one. It was in Japanese, which Karen translated; he scribbled the translated words above the Japanese.

 

_ Spiderman, _

 

_ It is with sincere happiness that we can welcome you to the class of 1-A at UA Highschool. Classes begin a week from today, at 9:00 AM. Please show punctuality in your arrival. _

 

_ Forms are enclosed within for costume requests, health waivers, Quirk liabilities, medical forms, and food requirements for school-provided lunches. _

 

_ Wishing you success, _

_ Nedzu _

_ Principal - UA Highschool _

 

_ P.S. Most other letters will be translated into English for your convenience. _

 

Enclosed were, indeed, forms titled  **COSTUME REQUESTS, HEALTH & MEDICAL INFORMATION, QUIRK INFORMATION, ** and  **NUTRITIONAL REQUIREMENTS.**

 

Peter skimmed the first- the only requirement he scribbled was “Lab access for self-upgrading,” so he could put that aside relatively easily. 

 

Health & Medical would be harder, so he set that aside; for Quirk Information, he wrote  _ Super Strength, Minor Regeneration, Sticky Hands and Feet, Web Production, Perfect Balance, Superhuman Speed, Superhuman Agility,  _ and  _ Early Danger Detection.  _ Technically, it only said list one, so Peter put parentheses around the list and wrote  _ Web-Slinger  _ next to it.

 

For Nutritional Requirements, he wrote that he had an abnormally high metabolism and needed ~6000 calories per day; then he pulled Health and Medical Information back in front of him.

 

He wrote down that he had advanced healing, but also that standard drugs didn’t work on him because of the increased metabolism. Then he paused a second, before adding,  _ No thermoregulation. Possibility of hibernation if temperature drops too low. _

 

He handed it back to Aunt May for things like health insurance and blood type- because let’s be real, he didn’t know his own blood type. She took them and read them over.

 

“You got in?” she asked excitedly. “Oh, Peter, that’s wonderful! Congratulations!!! I bet Ned and MJ will be so excited!”

“I should. Go tell them. I’ll be right back,” Peter said, and backed into his room.

 

In truth, he was worried sick about the pair. Ned got picked on at school constantly even with his Technowizard quirk, and MJ got in too many arguments for her own good, using her Persuasive Speech to convince other people she was right (which, in her defense, she usually was.) 

 

tokyo drift 9:33 AM

gusy

GUSY

GUYS 

GUEsS wHaT

 

Michelle Jones 9:34 AM

what

 

ramean 9:34 AM

whta

 

Michelle Jones 9:35 AM

whta

 

ramean 9:35 AM

>:c

 

tokyo drift 9:36 AM

I GOT IN

 

ramean 9:36 AM

HOLY  **_SHIT_ **

 

tokyo drift 9:36 AM

CLASS 1-A BITCHES

 

Michelle Jones 9:37 AM

congratulations

normally id say some shit about how Heroes are just more examples of our government’s classism and propaganda, but im kinda happy for u so i sleep

 

tokyo drift 9:39 AM

m o o d

 

_ Call Incoming: Nedhead22 _

 

Peter tapped  _ Accept, _ and was immediately graced with Ned screeching.

 

“PETER HOLY  _ SHIT  _ YOU GOT INTO CLASS  _ ONE FUCKING A  _ OF  _ U A HIGHSCHOOL _ OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY  _ SHIT _ -”

 

“Ned,” Peter giggled, “calm down. I got in, yanno?”

 

There was a  _ whooshing  _ sound from the other end, which Peter figured was probably Ned taking a breath of air.

 

“Also, dude, check your Twitter, it’s been blowing  _ up. _ ”   
  


“I know,” Peter said miserably. “I don’t wanna look.”

 

“Nah, man, everyone’s pretty chill about it but a lot of people are genuinely worried about you. Check it out.” A screenshot appeared in their chat, of a Twitter thread.

 

sai @brushybrushpen

@defnotspidey Are you okay?? Literally nobody’s heard from you in days #spideyscare

 

its @thefinalc0untdown

@defnotspidey hey u probably dont remember me but u saved me back in 2016 on that ferry that split in half, so if you’re out there reading this stay safe, because youve impacted all of us new yorkers so much n (1/2) #spideyscare

 

its @thefinalcountdown

(2/2) im sure youll be able to impact the heroes in japan the same way while you stay!!! #spideyscare @defnotspidey

 

mars bar @coolbrocoffee

@defnotspidey dude u good? didnt you record that song in like 2017 that was like “i promise nyc ill never leave” what gives #spideyscare

my names blurrycats @stickofgun

@coolbrocoffee hes going to ua high bc hes illegal didnt u hear #spideyscare

mars bar @coolbrocoffee

@stickofgun woah really??? i didnt know he was that young but its okay im his mom 

now lmao #spideyscare

 

aj @yourrentoo

@defnotspidey daily check in to see if you’re still okay?? has anyone seen spiderman recently #spideyscare

 

Peter blinked back tears, and swallowed hard. “Okay.”

 

“See ya, Pete. It’s like eight pm here, so.”   
  


“Bye, Ned.”

 

Peter tried to pretend it didn't affect him that much. They were just people behind anonymous egg icons on Twitter. But no matter what he told himself, that night, @defnotspidey replied to over 2,000 tweets.

 

sai @brushybrushpen

@defnotspidey Are you okay?? Literally nobody’s heard from you in days #spideyscare

 

friendly webslinger @defnotspidey

@brushybrushpen im okay! sorry i was awol :(

 

sai @brushybrushpen

@defnotspidey holy shit spiderman replied to me

 

mars bar @coolbrocoffee

@defnotspidey dude u good? didnt you record that song in like 2017 that was like “i promise nyc ill never leave” what gives #spideyscare

friendly webslinger @defnotspidey

@coolbrocoffee im okay lol, thats not my song but i appreciate that u think i have any 

singing voice whatsoever jdghjaskhdgkha 

 

mars bar @coolbrocoffee

@defnotspidey no problem!!! also youre my kid now im sorry u had to find out this way

 

aj @yourrentoo

@defnotspidey daily check in to see if you’re still okay?? has anyone seen spiderman recently #spideyscare

friendly webslinger @defnotspidey

@yourrentoo im okay!!!!! just doing some minor apartment renovation. who knew shitty 

cheap japanese apartments were literally the worst

 

aj @yourrentoo

@defnotspidey omg!!! mood sdghjsdghk but like im glad yr okay! im starting a kickstarter  so you can afford better rent whos with me [https://bit.ly/2G9yg9V](https://bit.ly/2G9yg9V)

 

its @thefinalcountdown

(2/2) im sure youll be able to impact the heroes in japan the same way while you stay!!! #spideyscare @defnotspidey

friendly webslinger @defnotspidey

@thefinalcountdown im crying now thanks shdghsdgkjsdhgjkshg

 

its @thefinalcountdown

@defnotspidey noooooooo dont cry ilysm


	5. Plus Ultra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone tell cyrus to actually start updating this fic lmao

“First day of UA, sweetie!” May smiled, hugging Peter so tightly he was pretty sure he was literally going to die, super strength or not. “I’m so proud of you. And Ben would be too.”

 

“Thanks, May,” Peter said, the words muffled by his squished mouth and by May’s jumper, which she was wearing in early September for some reason unfathomable to him. He awkwardly extricated himself from the death grip and smoothed his rumpled suit out. Then, he slid the mask over his head, and reached a hand under the mask to pull his hair out of his face so he could actually see through the eyes. May handed him a backpack.

 

“All right, Peter. Stay safe, okay? I larb you. Don’t forget to keep the mask halfway up when eating instead of just taking it off-”   
  


“I know, May-”

 

“-and always keep a spare pencil on you-”

 

“I know, May-”

 

“-and try and get at least 1000 calories at lunch  _ please- _ ”

 

“Yeah, May. I know.”

 

“Ugh, my little baby boy all grown up!” She squeezed him one last time, and Peter couldn’t help but smile.

 

“I know. I’ll see you after school, I’m not leaving for a month or whatever. Larb you too.”

 

“Stay safe and don’t get hurt!” There was another half to the sentence, but by this point Peter was already closing the window behind him and springing off of the building. He’d long since memorized the route to UA (mostly because he was spying on the teachers’ daily activities to get a sense of their personality) and even though he’d been 5 minutes behind schedule, he arrived early. He didn’t want the gate to get mad at him, though; was it sentient? He didn’t know, but it had certainly been mad at him the first time he’d perched on it- so instead he lounged on the ground, leaning against one wall and flicking through his phone. 

 

As soon as 8:00 hit, the gate opened and Peter walked inside. He was the first one there, though he saw a couple people following him in- one was Iida, and the others he didn’t know. He saluted Iida cockily when he saw him.

 

“Hey, Iida!” he said cheerily, and the boy looked up from his feet.

 

“Spider-man! Good to see you! What class are you in?”   
  


“1-A,” he said, trying to keep his tone as neutral as he could. He didn’t want to try and show off or anything, especially if the other hadn’t made it in.

 

“Oh really? Me too. I hope we can work well together!”

 

“Uh-huh!” Peter nodded, then leapt towards the windows of the school, where one was open. He tumbled through into the hallway, where a series of classrooms labelled B-1, B-2, B-3 were lined up. One- no, two? Three? were labelled  _ Lab _ , and he made a mental note of it for future upgrades. But if this was B, then he probably had to go down a floor for A. He located the stairs easy enough, and slid down the railing, because there weren’t any teachers or anyone around, really, so why not?

 

A-1 was empty, except for Iida who walked in a couple seconds later, followed by a boy with a large burn scar over one eye, and half-red, half-white hair. They started talking quietly- something about heroic family members,  _ typical  _ for a big name school like this- and Peter tuned them out. An aggressive-looking boy with an angry frown, or maybe just a resting-bitch-face, noisily fell into his seat with a  _ bang. _ Followed by what appeared to be a sentient shirt and skirt, whose heat signature Karen helpfully highlighted; Peter quickly realized the rest of her was present, but invisible. 

 

tokyo drift 8:44 AM

yo this is weird

literally everyone looks like you pulled them from like a comic book or some shit

 

Michelle Jones 8:46 AM

Peter it’s a school full of kids with weird quirks what did you expect

 

tokyo drift 8:46 AM 

idk man??? like some kids who look kinda semi normal

literally there’s one kid who looks semi-normal except she has invisibility so i cant actually tell that much

 

Michelle Jones 8:48 AM

dang bro

 

tokyo drift 8:49 AM

anyway gtg 

 

He slipped the phone back into a hidden pocket, because  _ dammit, he’d spent too long in shitty pocketless pants,  _ and glanced back up. Midoriya had joined them, and he seemed to be talking with aggressive boy- whose name was Bakugo, if their conversation was to go by- and Iida. On second glance, Bakugo seemed to be acting pretty aggressively towards Midoriya, and Peter walked over from the corner. Everyone turned to him, as though startled; they probably hadn’t seen him crouched in the corner.

 

“Hey, Midoriya, you okay?” he said, cheerily. Karen translated the words, and the kid turned to him. (Peter probably had to stop calling everyone  _ kids _ when they were the same age.)

 

“Yeah,” Midoriya said, but his eyes were watering, and Peter didn’t need his spidey-senses to smell bullshit.

 

“Bakugo, was it?”

 

“What’s it to you?” the kid grunted, and Peter’s eyes narrowed.  _ Damn, this kid’s a prick. _

 

“Just want to make sure you aren’t bullying my little cousin. It’s day one, I’d hate for him to have to kick some… butt,” Peter amended, realizing that they were  _ definitely _ too unfamiliar to swear around, “... on day one, ya know?” Karen had struggled to translate it. He’d have to talk slower in the future.

 

_ Boss wants me to remind you not to cuss in front of the little kids,  _ Karen told him.  _ I have taken the liberty of drafting a response for you, reading: “Don’t worry, Mr Stark, I won’t.” Would you like to send it? _

 

Peter, ignoring Karen’s question, almost sighed aloud, but thought better of it. He’d have to get Ned to hack it again and get rid of the stupid protocol.

 

“He’s Quirkless, probably cheated on the entrance exams! He can’t do anything to me. Why are you even sticking up for a loser like him?” 

 

“Are you even  _ trying _ to act like a hero? Or, God forbid, be  _ nice?  _ We’re supposed to be hero students, not villains. Take it easy.” At this point, he was  _ definitely  _ channeling his inner Ram from Heathers and screaming I HATE FRESHMEN in his head, but until their teacher  _ finally _ showed up, there wasn’t any backup for now. 

  
Seriously, where  _ was  _ the teacher? According to his GUI, the time was 9:02.

 

“Bakugo, please don’t try and fight him,” Uraraka pleaded. Peter hadn’t even seen her enter the room. 

 

The boy huffed and leaned his chair back on two legs; Peter had the sudden urge to tell him the story literally every single teacher throughout elementary and middle school told him, about the kid who leaned too far back and cracked his skull open, but he decided that would  _ probably _ antagonize him too much. Midoriya looked at the seat next to Bakugo, and Peter realized he was about to try and sit next to the bully, so instead Peter took the seat, and Midoriya took the seat on the other side of him, still openly staring at Peter. 

 

Slowly, the rest of the class took their seats, as the teacher  _ finally _ came in. Well, more accurately, rolled in, wearing what looked like a traveler’s sleeping bag, in vivid yellow. The class made various confused noises, from a “What the hell?” to a “Hmm?”

 

His suit immediately locked onto the teacher’s face- he looked exhausted- and came up with a profile.  _ Shota Aizawa,  _ alias Eraser Head. Age: 30. Height: 6 feet, Quirk: Erasure, Occupation: Pro Hero, plus an entire list of his previous achievements. It also informed him that the scarf was some sort of steel-alloy weapon with carbon nanofibers. Peter ignored all of it except for the Quirk, taking mental note before listening to what Aizawa was saying as he unzipped the bulky thing from around him and sipped from a Capri-Sun.

 

“I’m your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you.”

 

“Homeroom teacher?” a couple people echoed, confused.

 

“This is kind of sudden, but please put this on and go out onto the field.” He pulled a tangled wad of navy clothes out of his bag, and Peter raised an eyebrow, but nobody else seemed to. They started apprehensively taking clothes, and a girl with what Peter assumed were earbuds in looked at hers.

 

“Hey, there’s a name on this one. Koji Koda?”    
  


“That’s me!” rumbled a rock-headed boy, dropping the pair he had and taking the ones earphone-girl was holding.

 

“Oi, Shoji, this is yours,” Bakugo grumbled, flinging a shirt at a boy with a ninja mask on. He caught it with a nod and soon what had been a classroom turned into a loud mess of “Jiro? Ashido! Kirishima? Todoroki? Sero. Yaoyorozu?” People started filtering out to the bathrooms, though the invisible girl who’d responded to “Toru Hagakure?” didn’t seem to care at all and was changing in the corner. Peter winced and looked away, tossing his own shirt (handed to him by “Tokoyami”) on and pulling his pants over his suit. 

 

“Karen, send a selfie to May,” Peter said, looking down at the gross pattern and color that went with  _ nothing _ he was wearing. Droney buzzed out, took a selfie, and reattached. The image popped up in the corner of his GUI, and he smiled a little at his own Spiderman mask on top of the stupid-looking outfit. 

 

Peter joined a few kids in walking down the steps to the outside, stopping by a playing field of some sort- softball, maybe? The rest of the class was filtering out, too, to stand under the bright sun. The others looked a lot better in the outfit, seeing as how they weren’t also wearing vivid red suits.

 

\----------------

 

“We’re going to be undergoing a Quirk assessment test,” Aizawa explained as everyone arrived.

 

“A Quirk Assessment test?” the class echoed. 

 

“What about the entrance ceremony? The orientation?” Uraraka asked. 

 

“If you’re going to become a hero, you don’t have time for such leisurely events,” Aizawa said, and his voice was cold.  _ This guy is a pro hero? _ A couple of kids gasped, or muttered to their friends something. “UA’s selling point is how unrestricted its school traditions are. That’s also how the teachers run their classes. You kids have been doing these since junior high, too, right? Physical fitness tests where you weren’t allowed to use your Quirks.” He held up a phone, and Peter looked at it closely. It showed a series of tests; he recognized some of them from his own schools’ testing, though he noted with some thanks that it didn’t include the Pacer and that this wouldn’t make him pretend to be a quirkless Peter Parker who’d somehow  _ lost  _ his Quirk.

 

“The country still uses averages taken from results from students not using their Quirks,” Aizawa continued. “It’s not rational. Well, the Ministry of Education is procrastinating. Bakugo, you finished at the top of the practical exam, right?”

 

Bakugo looked up, and the others looked at him curiously. Peter watched his face intently as pride flickered across it, then disappeared.

 

“In junior high, what was your best result for the softball throw?” He didn’t recognize that from his school’s tests, but it sounded straightforward. 

 

“67 meters,” Bakugo said, glaring at the ground. He almost looked ashamed of the result, though 67 meters was no short distance. 

“Then, try doing it with your Quirk.” Aizawa threw a softball gently at him and indicated a circle in the middle of the field. He stepped into the circle stiffly, his hand clenched hard around the ball. Peter wondered why he was so angry all the time; if there was a legitimate reason or if it was just his natural state. “You can do whatever you want as long as you stay in the circle. Hurry up, give it all you’ve got.”

 

Bakugo muttered something in Japanese that Karen didn’t pick up on or didn’t deem necessary to translate, and stretched a little. He catapulted his arm forward, and an explosion rocketed from his hands as the little white ball was  _ flung  _ through the air.    
  


“DIE!” Bakugo shouted, but Peter didn’t pay much attention; his vision was zeroed in on the ball, which was definitely on fire. 

 

“Die?” a couple people repeated from the rest of the crowd.

 

“That is the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero,” Aizawa said, looking at a distance tracker, then showing the result- 705.2- to the class. 

 

A boy standing in front of him whispered, “750 meters? Seriously?” while a pink-skinned girl exclaimed, “That looks fun!” Another boy with straight black hair said, “As expected from the hero course! We can use our quirks!!” 

 

“It looks fun, huh?” Aizawa asked, but his voice had taken on a darker tone. Even though Peter’s senses hadn’t gone off, he still tensed.

 

“You have three years to become a hero. Will you have an attitude like this the whole time? All right. Whoever comes in last place in all eight tests will be judged to have no potential and punished with expulsion.”

 

Peter’s eyes narrowed, hard, as the class shouted in outrage and confusion.  _ Who does this guy think he is?  _ And suddenly found himself faced with a moral dilemma.

 

Midoriya was Quirkless. Peter knew what it was like when everyone thought you were Quirkless; people treated you like the scum of the earth, made fun of you to no end. Only seven living people knew Peter wasn’t Quirkless, had never been Quirkless, and school was a living nightmare. 

 

Peter  _ needed  _ to become a legal Hero. But if he succeeded, then Midoriya might fail, and that was unacceptable; his aunt would be angry at him, and Midoriya would be devastated. He’d have to take the fall on the tests if he wanted Midoriya to succeed.

 

But then again, Peter would probably be arrested if he failed. Midoriya would suffer no real setbacks. So Peter had to win.

 

“We’re free to do what we want about the circumstances of our students. Welcome to UA’s hero course!” Aizawa spat, with a dark grin on his face. Peter’s Spidey-sense still wasn’t going off, but he was fuming and more than a little nervous. He and 19 fifteen-year-olds were gonna be stuck with this fucker for three years?

 

“Last place will be expelled? But it’s the first day of school! No, even if it wasn’t the first day of school, this is too unfair!”

 

“Natural disasters, big accidents, and selfish villains,” Aizawa drawled. “Calamities whose time and place can’t be predicted. Japan is covered with unfairness. Heroes are the ones who reverse this situation.” His face had hardened now, and Peter could see flickers of grief in his eyes. Even though the guy was a dick, he still felt pity well up in him. _ Who knows what this guy’s gone through.  _  “If you wanted to go talk to your friends at McDonald's after school, too bad. For the next three years, UA will do all it can to give you one hardship after another. Go beyond. Plus Ultra. Overcome it with all you’ve got.”   
  
Uraraka balled her hands into resolved fists. Iida’s face set into determination. Bakugo grinned. 

 

“All right, demonstration’s over.”

  
Midoriya looked  _ terrified. _


	6. You Tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today, y'all! Sorry about that :<
> 
> also me? writing battle scenes? sorry whos she i cant do that lmao

The fifty-meter dash came first. Before they started, Peter scanned the sky; there was next to no cover, but 50 meters wasn’t far at all and he could definitely just web zip there.

 

“ _ GO!” _ exclaimed the little sensor-looking thing that was indicating their start point.

Peter watched Iida burst across the finish line, right in front of a girl with a frog-looking tongue and quirk. 

 

“Well, he’s like a fish in water,” Peter heard Aizawa sigh. It was true; Iida’s engine-legs suited the situation perfectly.

 

A boy with a springy lion tail leapt across the finish line, seconds before Uraraka did. It was hardly a match, but Uraraka still seemed happy, and Peter found himself happy for her, too.

 

The boy with the weird belly-button ray gun leapt backwards and propelled himself across the ground, but it stopped working halfway through and he hit the floor as the pink acid girl zipped past him. Ray gun boy still looked as though he was trying to charm someone, though; Peter wondered who the hell he was trying to impress. It was a cool quirk, though. From what he’d seen so far, jumping seemed to be the way to go if you didn’t have a speed-based quirk. He winced and shut his eyes tight against the light emitted from Bakugo’s explosions, and watched the red-and-white haired boy slide after him on a sheet of ice.

 

His own match went quickly against the stone-headed boy, who ran slowly after him as Peter crossed in 4.88 seconds. He still paid attention to the other matches, though; Karen was creating profiles of each person and their Quirk, and he wanted to make sure she had all the data she needed.

 

Test 2 was grip strength. Peter had no worries about losing this one. The boy with a ninja mask (and, now that Peter was looking, 8 arms) had knocked the battle out of the park with 540 kilograms, and Midoriya looked even paler than he already was. Peter glanced down at his own score- 332.54 kilograms, and felt guilty.

 

Test 3- standing long jump- Peter cleared the sandbox. Bakugo cleared the sandbox. Iida cleared the sandbox. Uraraka and Tokoyami cleared the sandbox. Midoriya dropped into the sandbox, not even having cleared the halfway point.

 

Test 4, repeated side steps, Peter had the most trouble with. He did his best, though, and got plenty of points. Midoriya didn’t do too poorly, but… 

The guilt that drenched Peter was becoming familiar to him.

 

Test 5, Uraraka did fantastic at; anti-gravity was good for her. Peter flung it as far as he could. Bakugo did amazing, again. Midoriya stepped up to the plate. He took a deep breath.

 

Peter’s spider-sense flared, and before he could fully understand what he was doing he dove at Aizawa, whose eyes were glowing red with some sort of light Peter didn’t quite understand..

 

Aizawa blinked twice, hard and fast, as Peter collided with him. They hit the ground, and Peter sprung back onto his feet, but Aizawa laid there for a second in stunned silence.

 

Midoriya screamed.

 

\----------------------------

 

“What were you  _ thinking? _ ” Aizawa angrily said, in English, sitting next to Midoriya’s hospital bed. “He hasn’t mastered his Quirk yet. He hurt himself because I couldn’t stop him.”

 

Peter was thankful that his mask hid the nervous tears he was trying to blink away. “He hadn’t won anything. I felt guilty that he was going to fail out and it would be my fault for not taking the fall instead. My senses… they told me something was _happening,_ that you were doing something and that it could be putting someone in danger. I did what I thought would stop you from hurting him or purposely failing him.” He didn’t realize his tone had grown angry until it had, and he had to consciously relax his voice. He glanced over at Midoriya’s hospital bed, where he was sitting up, appearing to ignore the situation. He was glaring angrily at his shattered wrist.

 

“If he keeps this up, he’s going to get permanently hurt, something that Recovery Girl can’t fix so easily. It was supposed to be a  _ bluff, _ by the way,” Aizawa hissed, staring at his own hands in his lap. It occurred to Peter that Aizawa might not be blaming  _ Peter  _ for this. “You can’t act so recklessly. It will hurt the people around you. You may be a vigilante already, but you are still immature as a child.”

 

And  _ damn,  _ that hurt like a bullet to the chest- a sharp pain that he knew would fade to a dull ache but never really go away. All he could think of was the sketch of his mask in Midoriya’s notebook, and how much the boy idolized him. He swallowed against the hard lump swelling in his throat.

 

“I’m sorry. To both of you.” Peter said thickly. 

 

Aizawa exhaled. “Well. it’s a start.” His eyes flickered to Midoriya, then back to his own hands; he wouldn’t meet Peter’s. “At least we got all the fitness tests done,” he added in a mutter. “Please return to class.”

 

Peter’s stomach turned; he would have to explain what he did to the class, no doubt. He closed his eyes before standing up and leaving.

 

The door shut behind him, but he took a second to lean against the walls, eyes shut tightly.  _ Stupid super-spider-anxiety. Fucking spiders don’t even have this stupid sixth sense thing. “Early warning system” my ass, they have  _ **_eyes,_ ** _ that’s their early warning system… look, spider, you fucked up a perfectly good human, dammit… _

 

He blinked his eyes back open. No use dwelling on it. It was only going to make things worse. And he was about to walk back past the door to the bathroom, to take a proper break, before he heard Aizawa speaking from behind the door-

 

“You’ll never be a hero. You have no control over your Quirk, it’s useless. You have no potential.”

 

Peter felt fury swelling up in his chest, deep and firey, but covering that like a thick wool blanket he felt a deep, intense, all-consuming sadness. His face twisted under the mask, but he stalked off to the bathroom instead of punching the door in; he almost turned at the girls’ bathroom, but corrected himself mid-step and moved to the boys’. He sat down hard on a toilet lid and locked the door.

 

“ _ Peter, your heart rate is elevated and your breathing seems harsh. Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?” _

 

“No, Karen. But-” He swallowed back a lump in his throat. “Can you call Ned? And MJ?” 

 

“Certainly, Peter.” Her voice seemed quieter than usual, calmer. He watched as the call went out; Ned replied on the second ring, MJ on the third. She looked mildly disheveled and messy-haired; he looked positively a mess.    
  


“Peter? Is everything okay?” MJ said, her voice quiet but eerie against the stillness of her dark room. “Are you hurt?”

 

“Bro, what’s going on?” Ned asked, his voice louder, more panicked. “Babe?”

 

“I’m okay,” Peter mumbled. “Just… I really fucked up, guys.”   
  


“Do you need to talk about it?” Ned said gently. 

 

“Yeah, probably,” he exhaled. 

 

“All right,” MJ said, casting a furtive, nervous glance over her shoulder. “My parents aren’t awake, but if they do wake up, I’m gonna have to hang up  _ quick, _ so… uh, if I hang up on you, I’m not upset, okay?”   
  


“Yeah. Yeah. Okay,” Peter said. “Uh. So today’s day one, I guess.”   
  


“Yeah.”   
  


Peter told them what happened- how he had been nervous of Aizawa all day, how Midoriya wasn’t winning anything, how his Spider-sense went off because Aizawa tried to stop Midoriya from breaking his wrist. Ned reacted appropriately- gasping, yelling, and getting angry in all the right places, while MJ’s expression changes were more subtle, but Peter appreciated that they were there. They helped him feel like he wasn’t making it all up, that it was  _ right  _ to get angry at him.

 

“Yeah, you fucked up,” MJ agreed at the end. “But seriously, that Ice-wa dude is a prick.”

 

“I know, right?!” exclaimed Ned for the n’th time that night. “God, what a douche! He’s your teacher???”

 

“For the next three years,” Peter groaned. “He told me to go back to class, but I’m not sure I can do that.”

 

“Peter, I know it sucks, but you gotta go to class,” MJ murmured. “Not because you’re in the  _ best hero school of our century  _ or whatever bullshit Ned was about to say-” Ned grinned guiltily. “-But because you can  _ do  _ it. It’ll help you grow as a person. Calvin’s dad, remember.”    
  


“Builds character,” Peter groaned. “Ugh. Okay. Get some bed, guys. Thanks.”

 

“Good luck, Peter,” MJ whispered before turning her camera off.

 

“Love you, Pete. Don’t get yourself killed.” Ned grinned, poking the camera.

 

“Yeah, you too,” Peter exhaled, ending the call. 

 

\-------------

 

Lunch was a nightmare. Not because of bullying, no. But the opposite, really; not unwanted attention, but not wanted attention either. No attention at all.

 

He pulled his mask halfway up his face and sat at his desk, slowly eating a homemade sub that didn’t taste nearly as good as the one from the bodega two corners down from Delmar’s. People gave him glances- probably because even with all the odd skin colors, a tan American boy still looked out of place- but they ignored him, for the most part. Even Uraraka ignored him in favor of talking to the frog-girl (Peter learned her name was Tsuyu) and Midoriya, whose wrist was newly healed. He took another bite of the turkey-and-lettuce, chewed, and swallowed. 

 

It was going to be a really lonely year. 

 

Peter glanced at the others- nineteen kids, talking and eating in various places around the classroom. Maybe it was his own fault for not participating. But he didn’t quite know where to start participating. He still felt uncomfortable talking to Midoriya, because he was responsible for his injury, and with his mask half-off he wouldn’t be able to communicate in Japanese anyway. 

 

He took another bite. Maybe he could just sit at his desk, in the middle but isolated anyway, for the rest of the year.

 

Maybe it would all blow over by the next day, though.

 

\---------------------

 

That afternoon were the battle tests. Everyone- save Peter- was given their requested fighting gear, and paired into teams of two. Peter was placed with Tsuyu, and informed they would be playing villains, fighting Tokoyami and Kirishima. 

 

Of course, Midoriya and Bakugo created such a mess that Peter was pretty sure whatever they did wouldn’t even be looked at, but it would be worth the shot.

 

“Tsuyu,” Peter greeted through the comms.

 

“Spidey, ribbt-!” Tsuyu nodded. “Plan?”

“We can both jump high,” Peter said, “and fit into small spaces. Here’s my idea- the building has to have vents, right?”   
  


“Ribbt,” she said, scratching her chin with a finger. “Yes. You can also stick to walls?”   
  


“Yeah,” Peter said. “We can use that to stay undetected. And we can both capture the heroes easily. If we get them inside the vents, they probably won’t be able to move, not to mention I can web them up. I have an AI in my suit, she can find the vents for me.”

 

“Good idea,” Tsuyu nodded. “Let’s go, ribbt!”

 

They waited the two minutes for the starting whistle, then leapt to the ceiling. Peter whispered, “Karen. Can you scan the structure and find me all the ventilation systems?”

 

“ _ Scanning.” _

 

The building lit up in yellow outlines, showing the two people on the upper floor, walking around their payload. The shorter one had some sort of large bird-looking thing over his shoulder, and Peter assumed it was Tokoyami. Karen had also highlighted the vents, and Peter noticed that there was, in fact, one a very short distance away, He crawled over to it, Tsuya following behind. He shoved it open, wincing at the  _ creak  _ it made, and climbed inside. The frog-girl was right behind him, looking nervously in every direction, and he led the way up.

 

“It’s getting cold,” Tsuya said nervously. “I can’t keep going if I’m cold.”   
  


“Karen, do I have external heaters yet?”   
  


“ _ No, only internal heaters.” _

 

“We’ll have to speed up,” Peter said, focusing ahead of him and setting a faster pace. “If you get too cold, let me know. I can, uh…. I can hug you for warmth, I guess. Or we can find an exit where you can wait and warm up.”

 

“I’ll be fine, ribbt,” Tsuyu said. “Let’s go.” 

 

They climbed and climbed and climbed and climbed for what felt like ages. But as they neared the top, the air started to heat up, so it would probably be okay.   
  


“You all right?” Peter whispered, breaking the silence as he crawled over the edge of the long ventilation shaft to reach the top floor’s tunnels.

 

“Yeah,” Tsuyu croaked. “Warmer now, and I don’t have to use my Quirk, ribbt.”   
  


Peter was definitely fed up with the “ribbt” thing, but he kept going. The tunnels were smaller now, and he had to keep his arms close to him in order to keep moving. Tsuyu was tiny, though, and could make it a lot easier than he could. Peter’s throat felt dry as he slowed down, nearing the vent near them. Neither was near the grate, though, so Peter crawled over it. He awkwardly shoved his mask up halfway and mouthed “ _ San. Ni. Ichi.” _

 

He eased the grate open and crawled through painstakingly.  Tokoyami’s bird immediately noticed them, though; a big, black creature, pulsing in the air. Peter was momentarily captivated by its beauty.

 

“Karen, light web!” he yelled, pinning Tokoyami to the wall with a luminescent web coating he’d cooked up upon learning the name of his Quirk- Dark Shadow was  _ very  _ obvious. The bird shriveled in the light and nearly disappeared. Across the room, Kirishima was fighting hard against Tsuyu’s tongue, and she was wincing in pain; Peter yelled over the comms, “Quick, let go now!” and webbed him down with quite a few webs. He was still thrashing, but he was definitely captured. Tsuyu leapt from the ceiling and grabbed the payload.

 

Peter was  _ definitely  _ going to be a Pro Hero at this rate... even if he fucked up a _lot_ along the way.


	7. Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: I haven't finished Daredevil or watched Defenders, so some of what I've written for him might be incorrect. The fact that he still has his weapons from pre-building collapse is intentional, though, mostly because he's kickass with a bulletproof suit and his billy club.
> 
> Also, credit to Seamew for correcting my Japanese! I don't speak Japanese so anything throughout the rest of this fic in Japanese is courtesy of Google Translate.

Peter hissed as he iced his cheek, the cold painful against his unmarred skin. He didn’t realize Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow had caught him across the face until he could feel the cold air on it instead of his mask. He’d wanted to go to the lab first; fix his mask, maybe get some help from Daredevil on how to make his suit thicker, but Aizawa (as well as Ochacho) had insisted he visit the infirmary first. Peter didn’t really want to- healing factor and all- and yet here he was, icing an already-healed cheek.

 

“I’m fine,” he insisted for the nth time that afternoon, but the nurse insisted he stay in his chair. Peter sighed and took the ice off his cheek. “See? The cut isn’t even there anymore.”

 

“Fine,” she said, eyeing a boy who’d come in with a _very_ burnt hand. “Go.”

 

Peter pulled the mask up, popped the ice in his mouth, and went.

 

The halls were empty- probably because classes were still in session- but he remembered the way to the lab, and he took the stairs four at a time, barely feeling the strain. He tried that game everyone once played in middle school, where you try not to step on a crack in the tiles, and then realized it was a moot point since there weren’t tiles on the floor.

 

The lab/repairs center was empty, too, which Peter took as a blessing. But just in case, when he took off the mask, he grabbed a piece of black fabric lying across the table and wrapped it around the lower half of his face, and pulled the hoodie from his bag to cover his hair.

 

He sat beside a sewing machine on a large folding table and turned the mask inside-out to apply a small patch of red stretchy material. Karen confirmed that it was reinforced with carbon-fiber, thanks to UA’s costume department. He changed the white thread out for a red thread, then rummaged through a bin until he found a needle and some darker red paint, plus a small brush.

 

Peter started up the machine, sewing the mask back together and tying the thread off at the end. Then, he turned it back over, dipped the brush in the paint, and tried to make the line over the patch as uniform as he could. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad at all, and from a distance, one couldn’t tell.

 

He heard the door open behind him, jumped, and turned.

 

Uraraka blinked back at him, then said something in Japanese.

 

“Sorry, what?” Peter asked, muffled by the cloth over his lower face.

 

“Uhh, I do not speak English well, sorry- I will be out quickly- who are you?” she said, tripping over her words. Her gaze traveled down to his costume, then back up to his face.

 

“Spiderman?”

 

Peter cursed inside his head. “Yes. I am Spiderman. Uh.”

 

She cocked her head. “Mask?” He blinked for a second, then reached behind him and grabbed the mask. He pushed the hoodie back and put the mask back on, then pulled the black cloth off of his nose and mouth in one fluid motion.

 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Peter said, Karen translating his words.

 

“No- it’s nothing, just….. you don’t speak Japanese?”  


“No,” Peter said, embarrassed. He tucked his knees into his chest. “Uh. My- my mask translates it all for me.”  


“Can I try?”

 

“Uh- sure?” Peter put the hood back up and pulled the mask from under it, screwing up his eyes against the light again. Quickly, he held the cloth to his lower face again, then tied it around his head. He offered the mask to her, and she took it hesitantly. She pulled it over her face, then reached under it to push her hair back.

 

“Woah,” she said, then continued in Japanese.  


“Karen, could you translate what she’s saying to English?”

 

“It is like… I am speaking Japanese, but I am hearing English,” Uraraka said wonderingly. “And there is… a big screen in front of me, with little buttons. But everything is darker, and I cannot hear so much or smell anything.”  


“Karen, unblock hearing and scent,” Peter said. “It’s darker because I see things brighter than most people do.”  


“You told me you do not speak Japanese?”

 

“Yes, but Karen is translating what I say.”  


“Who is Karen?”

 

“My suit. It has an AI, an artificial intelligence. She can scan things, identify people, tell me what something contains or what webs I should use.”

 

“ _Konnichiha_ _, Uraraka,_ ” Karen said. “ _Watashi wa Peter no joshu desu. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu._ ”

 

“Hi, Karen!” Uraraka said, then pulled the mask off. She looked at him for a second, then looked away and handed him the mask. “Thank you.”

 

Peter put the mask on. “No problem. At least you know now that I don’t have a horribly scarred face or anything like that, right?”

 

“Yes,” she giggled, then went quiet. ”What happened with Midoriya?”  


Peter exhaled, dropping his gaze even though she couldn’t see it. “I… have a sixth sense that tells me when people are about to attack. Sometimes, it malfunctions. Aizawa-” _That douche,_ he added internally. “He was… trying to keep Midoriya from using his Quirk, because it hurts him. But my sense malfunctioned and I thought Aizawa… well, he’d been making me nervous all morning, so when my senses told me he was going to _hurt_ Midoriya, I thought the worst. So I tackled him, but because of that Midoriya was hurt.”

 

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry,” Uraraka breathed, looking…. horrified. “There are rumors that you… hurt Midoriya, or that you punched Aizawa so you could hurt him.”  


“But you were all there, right?” Peter said nervously. “You could see what I did.”  


“Spiderman, all we saw was you gasping, then turning around and leaping for Aizawa. We didn’t know _what_ had happened. Then he was marching you both off, so…”

 

“Shoot,” Peter said, dropping his face into his hands. “Great. I promise, I was just trying to help.”

 

“I believe you,” Uraraka smiled. “But at least I know the truth now. I can help you dispel the rumors!”

 

“That sounds… great, thanks!” Peter said. He knew the rumors wouldn’t go away, really- they would grow and get darker over time. He’d been hoping to avoid that here. “Parker luck,” he added under his breath. “We should go back. Why were you here, anyway?”

 

“Oh, right!” She walked past him to grab a box of chalk. “Couldn’t find any in the closet.”

 

They walked back to class in comfortable silence.

 

\----

 

“Welcome to English class. We’ll be starting right away, because we like to go above and beyond! Plus Ultra!!!,” Present Mic was saying, and it wasn’t that he was saying it in a boring way- he was certainly exciting, but…….. yeah, Peter was a native speaker, and it wasn’t particularly interesting to him.

 

“SPIDER!” Present Mic yelled, and Peter jumped so hard he fell out of his chair, his ears ringing. “Pay attention!” He struggled to his feet, barely cognizant of his classmates’ laughter. _Parker luck._   


“Mr. Yamada,” Peter managed through the nausea, “my ears are really sensitive and I promise- Karen, can you stop translating?” He swallowed, and blinked twice, disoriented. “My ears are really, really sensitive and I swear I’m paying attention. May I take a pill to make it so my, uh, my ears don’t ring as much?” His voice shook.

 

“Oh! Sorry! Of course!” To his credit, he _did_ look apologetic. “Right, fluent English speaker. Please still pay attention!” Peter nodded, taking a pill from his backpack and slipping it under his mask, swallowing it dry as he sat back down. “Now, to continue. You all will have studied the present tense in middle school, yeah? So I’m gonna teach you the past tense today. Just add a -d... ”

 

A message popped up on Peter’s GUI, drawing his attention.

MM: We need to talk. Is now a good time?  


Peter glanced around the room, then covered his mouth with a hand under pretense of leaning on the table. “Karen,” he whispered, “can you muffle the mask so nobody can hear what I’m saying?”  


“ _Certainly, Peter._ ”

 

“Reply to Matthew Murdock: I can’t talk, but I can text. Isn’t it midnight in Manhattan?” He glanced up at Mr. Yamada, who seemed to be more subdued and was pointedly avoiding calling on him.

 

MM: Yes. There’s something big going on, Spidey.

 

PP: What’s up, Mr. Red?  


MM: Deadpool’s missing.

 

PP: Missing, like, missing-missing, or like he just went out for a drink?  
  
MM: What do you know of the Hand, Spidey?

 

PP: The what?

 

MM: Long story, and if you can’t call it’s not worth explaining the whole thing.

 

MM: To make a long story short, they’ve done all sorts of things in the name of the Black Sky- a human weapon, who was my girlfriend for a bit. She’s dead now, crushed and buried under rubble, but these Black Skies… you can make more.

 

MM: So they made more. I thought the Hand were gone after I crushed them in rubble, but the Yakuza helped them get back on their feet.

 

PP: That’s when you disappeared for a month and a half, right? People thought you were dead?

 

MM: Yeah. And… well, I’ve been able to control their income of Black Skies, taking them to orphanages for protection and rehabilitation, recommending them for therapy, et cetera, but there’s only so many malnourished South Asian children I can deliver without suspicion. Plus… I need to cut this off at the source.

 

PP: You need someone near the source to take it down.

 

MM: Yeah. And I need to find Deadpool. Because if he’s been kidnapped… they’d have to be really, really powerful for that.

 

PP: You’re right. Do you have any leads?

 

Before he could read the response, Yamada exclaimed, “Spiderman! Please put “create” in the past tense.”

 

Peter stood, said “Created,” and sat back down, thanking Karen mentally for unmuting him.

 

MM: Yeah, a name: Kimiko Itou.

 

PP: You know what part of Japan they live in?

 

MM: ...No.

 

PP: Not sure I can follow a lead if I don’t know where it *actually* is, but I’ll look into it, Mr. Red.

 

PP: How would someone contain Mr. Deadpool?

 

MM: I’m not concerned with how, I’m concerned with why.

 

The bell rang, and Peter stood up and grabbed his bag. He wasn’t on cleaning duty that day, so it was probably okay that he jumped out the window and started swinging home.

 

PP: Are they using him as bait or to interrogate him?  


MM: I don’t know. That’s the other issue. I can’t hear him or sense him or anything, even while focusing and tuning out everything else.

 

PP: Is he upstate with Mr. Professor Xavier?

 

MM: I already asked Xavier, and he said he hasn’t seen him at the School, and that nobody at the school has either.

 

PP: He didn’t say anything about some mission?

 

MM: No.

 

PP: There’s not much I can do from here, but I can try and contact him.

  
A noise from a nearby alleyway drew his attention- a shouted “STOP!” and the sound of rapid footsteps. Peter dropped his backpack on the rooftop.

 

PP: Ah, shoot, I think there’s a mugging going on be right back

 

MM: Take care of yourself, Spidey.

 

Karen closed the conversation and Peter leaped into the alley, landing with a clatter of metal and a _thud_ on the pavement.

 

“Hey, get your hands off him!” he yelled, webbing the aggressor to the wall. The person who was attacked was slumped against a wall, shivering; the aggressor angrily spat something at Peter that sizzled against the sidewalk.

 

“ _I have informed the Japanese police force about the situation and they will be here in three minutes, Peter.”_

 

“I’ll stay here,” Peter said under his breath, then addressed the man shivering on the ground. “Hey, mister, it’s going to be okay. The police are on their way. Do you need a blanket?”

 

“No, no-  thank you, _thank_ you-” the man said, and Peter turned at the sound of hissing. The man he’d webbed to the wall was drooling acid onto his bindings, and Peter annoyedly webbed his mouth shut. He tapped his fingers on his hips as the man tried to bite through them.

 

“Oh- shit, don’t do that,” he said, almost belatedly realizing what the man was doing. “Hey, hey, you spray more acid and that’s gonna hurt you, trapped in your mouth. Karen, can you-” He sprayed the person’s mouth with web dissolution, and the man let the acid drip out, leaving large, angry red sores on his tongue.

 

Sirens sounded from behind him, and Peter leaped to the rooftops before the police could get involved. He wasn’t a pro hero yet, so he could still be arrested for saving the person from the pickpocket. His backpack was still there, and he picked it up, slinging it onto his back and taking the fast route home.

 

\--------

 

Home, as it turned out, was short a functioning A/C unit, and Peter turned the unit in his suit on as he fixed it.

  
“I should become a home repairman,” he joked to himself to pass the time. “Parker’s Piping: Repairs for Beginners.”

 

He took the mask off, sweaty despite the air conditioning now functioning, then changed into a T-shirt and jeans. The simple attire was nice after wearing a body-con suit for a whole day, and it helped him feel more human. He picked up an apple from the table and did the dishes from the morning, then hand-washed the suit so it didn’t get gross and smelly. His phone pinged on the table, and he checked it- it was another stupid game invite, and he set the phone back down and settled onto a chair to relax.

 

\--------------------------------

 

Matthew Michael Murdock was confused.

 

Not that he wasn’t often confused- even with his _two_ Quirks, he was constantly being kidnapped and concussed and thrown off buildings for no reason. But here… there just weren’t any leads. None of the police force had seen Deadpool- even Peter’s friends at the 113th precinct in _Queens_ hadn’t seen him. Karen was trying her best, but she couldn’t find anything.

 

So here he was, in Midtown, standing outside of the thirty-second story of Avengers Tower, which had been designated for him specifically by an awkward-looking Tony Stark a year ago. He’d turned down the offer to stay permanently, but Stark had promised it would be there if ever Daredevil needed it, with everything printed in Braille (Matt still didn’t understand how Stark had known about his disability, but.)

 

He cracked the window open and crept in, thanking God- or maybe the AI in Stark’s building- not for setting off any alarms. It was cold inside, and Matt snapped his fingers once. The soundwaves bounced off the walls, leaving deep wells of silence where a sofa sat, a TV, a corridor with a single room inside. Upstairs, there were 8 people moving, though he heard also two voices that didn’t seem to belong to any of them. Maybe people who’d learned to mask their heartbeats?

 

Downstairs, there were so many people Matt didn’t bother counting. He knew Stark had many, many people on his payroll, but he was confident in the building’s AI protecting his floor. Speaking of which…

 

“AI?” he said aloud, looking around uncertainly. Thankfully, a female, robotic, Irish voice piped up from the ceiling.

 

“ _My name is F.R.I.D.A.Y, Mr. Daredevil. I am Tony’s personal assistant and artificial intelligence. How can I assist you today?”_

 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, could you direct me to the elevators?”

 

“ _The elevators are in front of you and to the left.”_

 

Matt exhaled, realizing he couldn’t tell her those didn’t help without revealing his disability. He heard electricity thrumming through a section of the wall vaguely forward and left of him, and followed that instead, using his billy club as a makeshift cane.

 

He managed his way to the elevator, which thankfully was ADA compliant and had braille next to the buttons. They were all just numbers, though, so he addressed F.R.I.D.A.Y. again.

 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, please let Tony Stark know I need to meet with him. I’m requesting access to the floor he is on.”

 

 _“Boss has accepted your offer. Transporting you now._ ”

 

The elevator shook a little as it ascended, and he steadied himself from a rail at waist height. It dinged a few times, then stopped, and Matt walked in the direction of the heartbeats. He was right; there were two people breathing, but masking their heartbeats. He turned his head in their vague direction.

 

“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything. Who-who are you?”  


“I thought it would be obvious from the sight of us, Daredevil.” He immediately took a dislike to the voice- it sounded too much like Elektra, too sly and singsongy in an “I know something you don’t” way. She smelt of vodka and perfume, as well as an underlying copper tone that Matt immediately knew was blood. The other was unfamiliar- one of his arms, though, was a deep well, sucking in all the soundwaves and near-silently clicking, as though it was mechanical.

 

“Romanoff and Barnes.”  


“Ding.”

 

“Ah, Double D! Devil Dog, DD! You wanted to see me?” This voice was definitely Tony Stark. He smelled- no, _reeked-_ of oil and grease and metal.

 

“Stark. Thanks for letting me.”  


“I mean, according to the security footage, you let yourself in, so. Don’t thank me.”

 

“I need information.”

 

“Don’t we all,” a man with a heavy accent sighed, and he had a necklace made from the same metal as Barnes’s arm. Spices and metal and tiredness emanated off of him, so he assumed it was probably-

 

“T’challa, Black Panther,” Matt said, inclining his head in a semblance of respect.

 

“The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”  
  
“God, I hate that name. Anyway. Deadpool is _missing._ ” Tony’s heartbeat picked up, as did one of the others.

 

“Deadpool?” The strong Sokovian accent would have given the Scarlet Witch away if the scent of paprika and the elevated heartbeat didn’t.

 

“Vigilante, like me. He prefers more lethal solutions, and his quirk is Regeneration. Wears a red suit with black details, looks like a clown with black eye pads over his mask?”

 

“Deadpool’s missing, too?” Stark sighed, so quietly Matt clearly wasn’t meant to hear it. “Damn.”

 

“Why, who else is missing?” he asked, cocking his head at Stark.

 

“What the _hell_ is your Quirk, Double D’s? Anyway, yeah. Clint Barton’s gone, too.”

 

“Hawkeye?”  


“That’d be him. Any ideas on what the similarities are?”  


“From our couple interactions-” which was false, he’d defended him in court for trespassing once or twice- “they’re both disasters with a vigilante mindset. Although…….”

 

“What?” Tony’s voice had dropped an octave, and was urgent this time, probably out of concern.  


“Well, neither of them are straight, so it could be that.” At _least_ four people’s heart rates skyrocketed here, and Matt cursed himself immediately.

 

“You’re saying that whoever took them could be targeting gay heroes?”

 

“Or gay vigilantes- Hawkeye’s mindset is very…”

 

“Yeah. Yeah. Uh, we’ll definitely be looking into that.”

 

“Keep me posted,” Matt nodded.

  
“Want to stay for movie night?”   


“Don’t watch movies.”

 

“Is this a blind thing or a child warrior mindset thing?”

 

Matt hesitated. “Did you just out me as blind to your whole group? Now I’m _definitely_ not staying for movie night.”

 

“Come on, we’ll turn audio description on. Sit down, take that helmet off, there’s no way that’s comfortable. They already knew, anyway.”

 

“I can’t believe this. Jones is a _snitch._ ”


	8. Return to NYC

The first week passed in relative peace.

 

That Tuesday, Peter received his daily update- “Stiltman has broken out of jail again, working to deal with him before he can get his stilts back. DP still awol; Hawkeye seems to be awol too. Avengers Inc has been notified.”

 

He instructed Karen to search the web for any idea as to where Deadpool is, and spent his lunch period befriending a boy named Hanta Sero, who was interested in their similar Quirk. He spent English researching Stiltman for Daredevil (and stifling his laughter as he watched clips of a regular guy on long mechanical legs screeching about world domination.) 

 

Wednesday, he and Hanta and Tsuyu compared Quirks at lunch to see who had better skills- who could keep swinging for longer, who could stick under more weight, how they stuck and what their tape/webs were made from. Tsuyu could stick under more weight, but Peter could swing for longer than Hanta. Hanta’s tape was sturdier physically than Peter’s webs, though. 

 

Daredevil informed him that Stiltman was still on the loose, but that New York had had an alarming amount of shootings recently and he was a lot more concerned with trying to find correlations in those. Peter told him it would probably be smart to do that as a lawyer, because he didn’t want him getting shot.

 

Thursday he talked to a girl named Yaoyorozu. She was kind but responsible, and they became friends quickly. She tried to replicate one of his emergency web-shooters, but they couldn’t shoot; Peter tried to act sympathetic, but he was honestly too relieved to make it sound convincing. She narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t say anything.

 

Daredevil was silent on Thursday. That worried Peter.

 

Friday, though, was when things got interesting.

 

Friday morning Peter woke up to the smell of burning plastic and bacon. He stretched, got up stiffly from his blanket, and accepted his blackened bacon from May, who was frantically stopping a grease fire.

 

“You should be a professional firefighter,” he suggested, scarfing the bacon down as quickly as he physically could so that he didn’t have to taste the charcoal-y taste of it, then chugging his glass of orange juice to clear his mouth of the chalky texture. 

 

“If only,” May sighed, setting his backpack next to the counter. “You did all your homework?” 

 

“Everything except English. I’ll do it in homeroom.”

 

“I don’t understand why you have to take English. You’re a native speaker.”

 

“It’s one of six classes I have to take, it’s not a big deal.” Peter dropped a hoodie over his suit. It was getting cold, and the heater inside worked but made his skin all clammy. He slung his bag across his back. “I should go. Good luck at work! See you later!”

 

“Bye, honey!” May shouted after him as he slid the window open and sprung from it. The air was chilly, but the wind felt good as he swung to school. The route was familiar now, and most of the passersby were the same faces on their ways to school or work. He mostly tried to steer clear of any fights, because there were often Pro Heroes involved and he didn’t want to get in their way. 

 

Peter opened the window to class 1-A and slid inside, settling into his seat. 

 

“Hello, ribbt!” Tsuyu greeted him. “Good morning!”   
  


“Morning, Tsu! How are you?”

 

“I’m doing all right,” she nodded, “all right. How are you?”

 

“A little tired,” he admitted. “But not bad overall.”

 

“Did you do the English homework?” 

 

“Sh...oot. Hang on.” He pulled his binder out and rapidly filled out the answers, stuffing it back in his bag just as Aizawa came in. He was wearing a hoodie today, with his usual scarf monster underneath, and carrying a box of Capri-Suns. Peter wanted to be confused, but it was so normal at this point that he didn’t even raise an eyebrow. It reminded him of his middle school Earth Science teacher who drank a full gallon of water every day.

 

And just like that, the day was off. English to Hero Studies to Modern Literature, Peter was bored to tears; lunch had become mundane; Art History and Math managed to be a little more interesting because he was  _ pretty  _ sure that Bakugo was drawing on his desk with tiny, controlled explosions.

 

“KATSUKI BAKUGO!” Ectoplasm yelled, finally taking notice, and Bakugo startled so hard he broke the desk in half by accident. The class was silent for a second in stunned awe, then burst into nervous, giddy laughter. 

 

“All right, let us clean this up. You only have 13 minutes in class. Go outside and run around, you hooligans.”

 

The class cheered and grabbed their coats; Peter just dropped his calculator back into his bag and slung it onto his back, running outside with everyone else.

  
When he got outside, some people were already sparring, others laughing and talking. He, on the other hand, was a little preoccupied- Daredevil had  _ finally  _ messaged him in Art, and he hadn’t had a chance to respond or even look at the message.

 

“Karen, pull up recent messages from Matt Murdock,” he said.”

 

MM: Spidey, emergency. I need backup asap- found shooter. Ben Poindexter, former FBI agent, psychopath, and expert marksman. Codename Bullseye.

 

Peter felt anticipation well inside his chest, but anxiety, too.  _ Finally. _ He could finally help Daredevil in a fight, but he’d need to make it back overseas, and he’d need to reinforce his suit. 

 

PP: 10-4, Mr. Red. Might take me a bit, though.

 

He checked to make sure nobody was looking, then ducked behind a Dumpster and pressed the emblem on his suit. The scent of steel filled his nose as the Iron Spider crawled over his normal suit. Karen flashed diagnostics on his screen-  _ battery 100%  _ thanks to solar power- and he ran around the back of the school, climbing over the fence. 

 

He swung home as fast as he physically could, dropping a note on the table-  _ Off spidermanning, emergency situation in New York. I’ll be home by Sunday afternoon-  _ and clambered up the outside to the roof, activating the Iron Man repulsors that Mr. Stark had built into the suit for him. 

 

Peter set a GPS course for Hell’s Kitchen, turned on his Spotify, and texted Ned and MJ about the situation. He sent a text to Daredevil, too-  _ On my way _ \- and started a game of Spider Solitaire, because dammit, he was staying on-brand.

 

\------

 

He reached New York by 9 am New York time, having napped on the way, because  _ thank you Karen you’re the best for being my navigator. _ The city was bright and rushing, and Peter felt a rush of homesickness. He could have curled up and breathed in the scent of the city for hours, awful as it was; already, people were taking notice that he was there. He disabled the Iron Spider suit and texted Daredevil that he was there.

 

PP: I’m in Hell’s Kitchen. Meet me on Fogwell’s Gym?

 

MM: On it

 

And indeed, not thirty seconds later, Daredevil was landing next to him atop the gym. 

 

“You made good time,” he commented.

 

“Flew here myself!” Peter said proudly. “Okay, what’s going on?”

 

Daredevil hesitated for a second. “Talk at my apartment. People have taken notice.” And indeed, in his corner of the mask that gave him a live Twitter feed of #spiderman and @defnotspidey, he saw it blowing up with the Iron Spider suit and his “teamup” with Daredevil. The man in question didn’t even wait for a response; he was already off and running across the rooftops, and Peter followed him.

 

They went through the window into a small three-room corner apartment. Peter pulled the mask off; Murdock took his helmet off. 

 

“Need a drink? Something to eat?”

 

“I wouldn’t mind some food. I haven’t eaten in eleven hours, and that’s not great for my, uh, my metabolism.”

 

Murdock dropped a sandwich and a root beer in front of him, cracking open a real beer for himself. Now that Peter could see him, Murdock was  _ covered  _ in scrapes and scars; several nicks were made on the suit, and his helmet was badly cracked.

 

“What the hell?” he muttered, turning the helmet over. It hadn’t torn through the carbon-fiber nanotubing on the inside, but it was warm to the touch and he could feel a lump on the inside. Before he could stop himself, he put a hand between the layers and fished out a small bullet.

 

“It’s what tipped me off. Ben Poindexter and I have history. Remember that scare where people thought I had shot up Clinton Church?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “I remember being so shocked, because you were pretty public about not killing people and also your Catholicism.”

 

“Yeah. That was my church, actually. But that was him. He’s an expert marksman- according to his tapes, he has BPD and psychopathic tendencies. Likes inflicting pain, and he doesn’t care who he hurts anymore. I was pretty sure he’d had his spine snapped by Kingpin, but he’s alive as ever.”   
  


“Wait, so how could you tell it was him?”   
  


“He’s the only shooter I’ve known to be able to ricochet bullets and kill his marks. He usually kills his marks with a single shot, and he would’ve done it to me if I hadn’t run first. It’s not just guns- he nearly killed me with a pair of scissors once. He can turn anything into a weapon if he can throw it.”

 

Peter chewed his sandwich thoughtfully. “Do we have any leads?”   
  


“He’s been going after people who go to a certain club.”

 

“As in a certain club or as in a euphemism for gay?”

 

“Uh, as in a certain club, I think. Right now all of his targets have been Pro Heroes who got in his way or people who went to the Foxtrot.”

 

“Okay,” Peter exhaled. “So keep my bulletproof armor on.”

 

“Yes. It doesn’t have any weak spots, does it?” 

 

“A deactivation button on the front,” Peter said, indicating his spider emblem before he realized Matt couldn’t see it. “Er, you can feel it, figure out how big it is.” 

 

Matt carefully and gently put the back of his hand against it. “It should be okay. Just keep it covered if you can.”   
  


“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “Okay. So how do we figure out who he is?”

 

“I’ve been told he looks… pretty obvious. Keep the name Bullseye in mind.” Matt smiled wryly, and Peter sighed. “Karen-” Matt stiffened-  “can you look up any pictures of this Bullseye?”

 

Pictures popped up on his field of view and Peter stifled a laugh.

 

“What? What is it?”   
  


“Okay, so picture a man in a dark purple latex suit,” Peter described. “It doesn’t cover his face, and his eyes look like little blue bullseyes. He has a massive white bullseye over the top of his skull, and two concentric circles on his shoulders. Apart from that, his suit looks identical to yours, just replacing red with purple and black with white.”

 

“So he stole my suit idea!” Matt chuckled. “Okay. I could get him on copyright infringement in a court!”

 

“I’m pretty sure that would be reckless endangerment. Could keep a gun in his pants or something.”

 

“Fair,” he conceded, then got to his feet. “Okay. So we need to find him before we can take him down.”   
  


“And I have to be home by 12 pm Sunday, which means I have to be out of here by 5 pm.”

 

“Joy. Okay, so eight hours to find and take down a skilled marksman.” 

 

“Yeah. If we finish early-”

 

“-we won’t-”

 

“-I can help you look for Deadpool and Hawkeye.”

 

“It’s a plan.”

 

\-----

 

Spiderman was  _ really  _ bad at staking things out.   
  


He kept humming along to the music blasting from the Foxtrot (even at like 9 am, who  _ does  _ that) and getting reprimanded by Daredevil, who had basically blended into the landscape, hiding in a nearby alley. Peter was “hidden” by crouching in an empty trash bin that’d been knocked over. But he kept shifting his weight and rolling the trash bin.

 

“Red, will you  _ stop moving?!”  _ Daredevil hissed over the comms. 

 

“I can’t help it,” Peter whined. “I’m really twitchy right now.”

 

“Why don’t you pretend to patrol, or just… actually patrol? Hell’s Kitchen could probably use the pick-me-up. Steer clear of the docks, you don’t want to get into a fight with the gangs right now.”   
  
“Okay!” He scrambled out of the trash bin, startling a couple of passersby, and launched himself into the air. Swinging around NYC was the most cathartic release of energy he could think of, and- whoop, there was some thug sneaking around the back door of a little butcher’s shop. Peter webbed him to a signpost and kept going.

 

He helped a little boy recover his balloon, freed a cat from a tree (and got poked a few times,) and signed an excited teen’s hat by the point that his comms crackled twice. It took him a second to remember that that was their Super Secret Spy Code for “Come over,” so he plopped the teen’s hat back onto his head and swung back to the Foxtrot.

 

He spotted the man immediately- he was skulking around the back alleyway, wearing civilian clothes consisting of a long dark coat with a hood. 

 

“When should we go?” he whispered. His comm crackled. 

 

_ “Wait for me to go first.” _

 

So Peter waited. It was a good 50 seconds before he noticed what Daredevil had; Bullseye’s finger was slowly rubbing over the trigger to his gun. A small pistol, but Peter had no doubt that he could inflict plenty of damage with it. Bullseye’s itchy trigger finger would probably be their downfall.

 

Unless… unless Peter could use it to his advantage?

 

He formulated a quick plan. If he distracted Bullseye with something else, he could unload his bullets into that.

 

“How many bullets does he have in that gun?” Peter asked. It was a second before the response came.

 

“Six bullets, six chambers.”

 

Peter mentally calculated. If he could discharge a bullet every, say, .5 seconds, he would empty his chamber in 3 seconds. How fast would it take him to realize that there weren’t any people there?

 

He exhaled, took a deep breath, and shot a single web at Poindexter. Away from the Foxtrot, but close enough.

 

_ BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! _

 

As soon as the second bullet had left the chamber, Peter already knew it wasn’t gonna work. He glimpsed Daredevil, mouth slightly open, as Peter dove for Bullseye.

 

_ BANG!  _ The fifth bullet discharged into the pavement.

_ BANG! _

 

Peter hit the ground, Daredevil immediately beside him, getting a roundhouse kick on Poindexter. 

 

For a second, he wondered why he couldn’t get up, why the hand he had on the pavement was suddenly sticky and why copper was filling his nose- a second of shock. Something warm and hot and burning was spreading from Peter’s stomach, a sort of irritated feeling from deep inside him.

 

His last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was  _ Shit, May’s gonna kill me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor peter parker  
> love to whump him, hate to see him sad ig
> 
> also, whoever's looking at my search history must be concerned  
> "what does being shot feel like"  
> "bullseye superhero"  
> "daredevil noir"  
> "daredevil" (x4)  
> "kiteman"  
> "llama iii gun"  
> "stiltman"  
> "ray nadeem daredevil"  
> "friday ai marvel"  
> "nyc precincts map"


	9. A Brief Outing

It wasn’t long before Peter regained consciousness, unfortunately.

 

He woke to a sharp, stabbing pain in his stomach, a cold cloth on his forehead, and a ratty but soft couch. He blinked twice, blearily, and tried to sit up. Immediately he cringed, retched, and almost vomited. He breathed fast and hard, almost hyperventilating, and recognized the early stages of a panic attack.  _ Breathe, just breathe, it’ll be okay- _

 

“Shh, hey, don’t move,” a voice he couldn’t identify was saying above him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down. He reopened his eyes and saw a woman over him, Matthew standing nervously nearby. 

 

“Shit- my mask-” Peter croaked, trying to calm his breathing and realizing his face was bare. His normal suit had been cut open over his stomach, presumably to allow access to the bandaged, bloody wound. 

 

“I had to take it off, you could have been losing too much blood and I wouldn’t know. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. Most of New York knows you’re a kid, anyway. My name is Claire, by the way. Nurse at Metro-General.”

 

“Wha- what time, what day-”

 

“4 PM,” Claire said. “You’ve been out for six hours.”   
  


“I have to go,” Peter said, struggling to sit back up. “I have to leave in an hour, have to get back to Japan-”

 

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” she said firmly. “God, you’re worse than Matt. Sit down, is there anyone I can call for you?” Matt made an indignant noise, but sat back down.

 

“My aunt,” Peter said. “My enhanced healing-”

 

“Isn’t working, for some reason,” Claire answered. She paced to the table and peeled off bloodstained gloves, setting them in the trash before grabbing her phone. “What’s her number?”   
  


“Need calories. Helps me heal,” he said, then gave Claire the number. There was a scraping sound outside Peter’s field of view; seconds later, Matt set an entire pecan pie next to Peter. 

 

“Eat.”

 

Peter didn’t question it, just took the large slice Matthew had put on his chest and started eating. He sighed in contentment- it was  _ good. _

 

“Did you make this?” he mumbled through a mouthful of pie. “S’really friggin delicious.”

 

“Thanks,” Matt said, pulling what looked to be a blueberry one out of the oven and taking some more flour from the cabinet. Now that Peter was looking around, almost every available surface housed tarts and pies and muffins. “Odd to have someone else bleeding out on my couch. Usually it’s me.” 

 

“Yes? This is Claire Temple, I’m a nurse. Your nephew… he was shot,” Claire was saying. “No, ma’am, he’s not dead…” Something clicked in his head.

 

“Poindexter. Did we-” Peter started, finally remembering vaguely why he had a bullet in his stomach.

 

“Yeah, I took him down. I had something I wanted to ask you about that, actually.” 

Matt set down the salt he was shaking into the bowl and leveled him with a stare. It was unsettling- his eyes were cloudy and opaque, as though the scratched eyes of a well-loved teddy bear, but he still gave off the impression that he was seeing straight into Peter’s soul. “You were pretty bad earlier, had a bad fever. You were… well, you said ‘Ben’ a few times. Peter, did you  _ know  _ Poindexter?”

 

Peter paled. “No,” he answered, but his skin was clammy. Not because he knew the villain- he’d never heard of him before the Fisk scandals. But now that he was thinking about it,  _ really  _ thinking about it, he hadn’t cried for Ben since sixth grade. He tried to sit up again and fell back onto the couch with a sharp exhale, the pain in his stomach rejuvenating. He took another bite of pie as Murdock kept looking at him, then finally broke his stare.

 

“I believe you,” Matt said, pouring some kind of filling into the pie crust- the aroma of lemons filled the room, and Peter took another bite of his own. “Do you want pain meds or something?”

 

“Can’t,” Peter groaned, wondering how many he’d have to take if he wanted to survive. “Metabolism.” 

 

“I can tell. It’s creepy- I can hear your skin stitching itself back together. Sounds terrifying, though nothing I haven’t heard before with Deadpool.”   
  


“That  _ is _ creepy,” Peter decided. “But good. It means I’m healing, right?”

 

“Peter? Your aunt wants to talk to you.” Claire put the phone to his ear without waiting for a response, and Peter immediately suffered a temporary bout of high-range hearing loss as his aunt screeched alarmedly through the phone’s speakers.

 

“ **_PETER BENJAMIN PARKER I SWEAR TO GOD-”_ **

 

“May, I’m okay, I promise-”

 

**_“JESUS CHRIST YOU TERRIFIED THE LIVING HELL OUT OF ME-”_ **

 

“I’m okay, the cut is already closing up, only some bruising-”

 

**_“YOU WILL GET YOUR ASS BACK TO JAPAN RIGHT NOW BEFORE YOU’RE ARRESTED_ ** **OR** **_KILLED-”_ **

 

“I need to let it heal, I still have some internal bleeding!”

 

**_“FINE_ ** **BUT AS SOON AS IT’S HEALED YOU ARE FLYING BACK HERE THIS INSTANT I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T TELL ME BEFORE YOU WENT OFF OVERSEAS TO GO** **_APPREHEND_ ** **SOME** **_SERIAL KILLER-_ ** **”**

 

“May. I know. I love you, okay? This  _ wasn’t  _ intentional.”   
  


May let out a long, exasperated sigh from the other end of the line. “You terrify me, Peter. Just… get home safe.”

 

“I know, May. I will.” He passed the phone back to Claire, slightly embarrassed by the outburst his aunt had just had in front of a hero, no matter how illegal he was. Daredevil seemed embarrassed, too, looking away awkwardly as he put the newly made pie into the oven. 

 

“Must be nice to have family that cares,” Matt said, breaking the silence with a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

 

“Matt! Do you need a hug?! I’m your family and I care!” Peter exclaimed, attempting to sit up again and managing it finally, though not without a fair bit of pain. 

 

“Yeah you do, kid,” Matt said. He put the butter back in the fridge, and Peter awkwardly got to his feet and hugged him gingerly. 

 

“Okay, bro party is over. I gotta-” Claire put her hands on his bandages, and he hissed in pain. “The bullets aren’t made of lead, but when you get back to Japan I’d advise seeking hospital care to surgically remove it in case it leads to any complications.”   
  


“Or,” Peter thought aloud, “I could just do it here before I head back. I can go to Avengers Tower’s medbay anytime.”

 

“True,” Claire nodded. “Matt, you up for a trip to the Tower?”

 

“Yeah,” Matt said, begrudgingly getting up. “I don’t have a car, but Claire does. Come on.” 

 

Peter stiffly followed them out the door, attempting to move as little as possible. And if he took a slice of pie along with him, who was to say?

 

\-------------

 

“You’re telling me you went after a pro villain alone,” Dr. Banner said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Not alone,” he and Matt said simultaneously. Matt was in his normal lawyer outfit, cane and glasses and all, but Peter was wearing a pair of Tony’s pants while he was off repairing the suit. He felt underdressed with the soft sweatpants next to Matthew’s sharp dress shirt, slacks, and red tie to match the ginger hair.

 

“Right, with an untrained vigilante-”

 

“Not untrained,” Matt corrected. “Not certified, but I was definitely trained.”

 

“Right. And I expect you went to New York Hero High, did you? Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?” 

 

“An old man named Stick’s underground dojo, actually,” Matt said, drumming his fingers against his cane. Dr. Banner shook his head and sighed. 

 

“My point is. You’re a teenager and you don’t even live in this city anymore, Peter. This isn’t your territory anymore.”

 

Somehow, that hurt more than the bullet had.

 

“You’re right,” he said, trying to steady his voice, then repeated, “You’re right. But Avengers Inc is too concerned with the big issues- nuclear threats, aliens, attacks on your own lives. Did anyone notice the string of mass shootings? Because Daredevil did.”

 

Dr. Banner pinched his forehead. “That’s not the  _ point. _ You can’t keep running into danger like this.”

 

“The police isn’t gonna do anything,” Matt said. “I have friends in the force, but Bullseye was too much for them. It’s up to us individuals with powerful or multiple Quirks-”

 

“And it’s not like I don’t know all 2,872 blocks of Manhattan by heart,” Peter added.

 

“Whatever. Whatever!” Banner said. “Just get him on my damn operating table.”

 

Peter got onto the damn operating table.

 

\----------

 

He woke up shortly after the stitches were finished, Matt having dozed off nearby. Peter sat up and tapped Matt’s chair.

 

“I’m gonna go,” Peter whispered.

 

“Stay safe,” Matt muttered, probably still half-asleep. 

 

Peter pulled the IV out of his arm and padded down to the lab. Mr. Stark was asleep, having clearly fallen out of his chair.

 

“FRI, can you pull out the Iron Spider?” Peter said to the ceiling, and Friday obliged. He tapped the spider in the center, retracting the hard shell, and put on the normal suit.

 

Then he was out the window and back in the breeze, flying through New York City. He whooped as he turned a flip, then let the harder shell re-encompass him and blasted back off across the world.


	10. NY Today, Japan Tomororw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check the end notes for an explanation of what the hell is happening with Avengers canon here, because it's a mess, yall.

 

When Peter got back to Japan, things were… quiet.

May was sitting alone at the table, moodily sipping cup ramen and flipping through a book. Peter felt a twinge of guilt surge through him- he’d worried his aunt by getting himself hurt. Banner had been right- New York wasn’t his territory anymore. He wasn’t so familiar with every alley and crack in the sidewalk, even if his internal GPS was still strong in the city. And half of Manhattan was already being defended.

 

He slid the window open decisively and dropped through it, landing noiselessly on the floor. May glanced up sharply at the gentle _shff_ of the window, but her harsh glare softened when she saw him standing by the window. Peter pulled the mask off and let her hug him wordlessly.

 

Well, it was wordless until she gave him what might have been the longest lecture of his whole life. And then _another_ bone-crushing hug. By the end, Peter felt guiltier than ever before- which, _totally_ unfair, he’d just been _shot-_ and May was teary-eyed. So was Peter, actually, but that had more to do with the pressure on his still-not-completely-healed wound.

 

“May, I know you were worried,” he choked out through the squeeze, “but honestly, I’m okay, all healed up- “ a lie. “Plus it’s three in the morning so we should, uh, go to sleep!”

 

“Peter Benjamin Parker if you ever pull a stunt like that-”

 

“Aunt May, I have _homework,”_ he said, pulling himself out of her arms.

 

\----------

 

He was in bed soon afterward- homework was easy for him, so he could do it in the morning, and he had bigger concerns on his hands. Plus, he was still tired from healing himself so quickly, and he needed more sleep to keep fixing it. Banner had told him that the bullet had entered at an angle- shot through one of his ribs, cracking it completely in half- and lodged itself in his scapula. _It’s pretty common,_ Banner had told him, _for self-restoration style Quirks to not include bone. Yours does, but it takes longer._

 

Well. Honestly, he shouldn’t even be surprised. Stupid Parker luck. But he wasn’t getting to sleep anytime soon, and Daredevil deserved an update on what was happening.

 

PP: hey im home btw

 

PP: probably up to like 60%, 70% healed

 

MM: Good to hear that.

 

PP: any updates on deadpool/hawkeye?

 

MM: Actually, yeah

 

MM: Stiltman. I got info out of him and some mafia associates in Washington Heights.

 

MM: Evidently there’s some guy going around- probably insane, honestly- who’s experimenting with super strength.

 

PP: but neither of those two have super strength??? also hows the heights lmao

 

MM: Test subjects, maybe.

 

MM: And the Heights are colder than Hell’s Kitchen. Not, uh, pleasant in my costume.

 

PP: That’s literally the worst conclusion,,, i didnt even come up with that and i could make a living off catastrophizing.

 

PP: also srry youre cold :(

 

MM: I can think of worse conclusions.

 

PP: no pls

 

PP: so our strong man have a name? a Tragic Backstory tee-em?

 

MM: Actually, yes. Our only lead is that he used to be a part of the Circus of Crime.

 

MM: Whatever that is.

 

PP: running analysis on it right now, gonna try and see what it is

 

MM: I’ve been calling him Musclehead

 

PP: wait wasnt hawkeye a part of a circus

 

MM: I don’t know.  


PP: if i remember right he got beaten up and left 4 dead by the ringmaster or some fuckery

 

PP: at least acc to what ive read

 

PP: & ofc they were from shield files so idk how trustworthy?

 

MM: I’ll look into it.

 

PP: hang on mightve found smth

 

PP: name correlation between circus of crime & smth called tiboldts circus

 

MM: Got it. I’ll get someone on that.

 

PP: yep

 

PP: ill lyk if i find smth

 

MM: Thank you. For future reference, please never use “lyk” as an acronym ever again. My voice reader pronounces it lick.

 

PP: sjghskdjghsdkjghs fair enough

 

PP: sorry probably shouldn’t keysmash either haha

 

MM: I was wondering where the sick cat was.

 

PP: mood

 

PP: good night

 

MM: Good night, Webs.

 

Peter plugged the phone in. The green light that indicated its charge lit up, and he opened the phone. Mr. Stark had set him up with a StarkMusic membership, and he turned on a quiet podcast, but sleep took a long time to come- his pillow too warm, his blankets too thin, his sheets too scratchy. And when sleep finally took him, it was fitful- he dreamed of a creature with too many eyes and too many legs, of everyone hurt- May, Ned, MJ, Mr. Stark, Mr. Murdock, Deku, Hanta, Tsuyu-

 

His eyes flew open to his alarm sounding the 7 AM warning.

 

“Ugh.”

 

He hit snooze and turned over- ow- but he couldn’t get the image of bloody hands out of his head. So instead he got up- _ow-_ and took a long, warm shower, stared at the wall, scrubbed his hands hard with soap to remind himself that they were _clean_. He pulled on underwear, then the Spidey suit over it, then a Stark hoodie and skinny jeans over that; then, almost mechanically, he took out his school binder and began work on the homework.

 

He felt exhausted to the core- as though he could sleep for a million hours and never be energetic again. His side and back ached. Daredevil hadn’t texted with information, and his brain was whirling with ideas. Just to make up for it, he texted Mr. Stark- _what if the widows bites had like smoke bomb implants-_ and told himself that when he finished his homework he could work on a 3d model for it.

 

Then he chewed on an eraser, answered question five on his art history homework ( _Describe impressionist views on religion)_ and asked Karen to look into possible links between Tiboldt’s Circus and the Circus of Crime. Deadpool had been missing for a week now, and the remnants of Team Red were starting to worry.

 

English homework was a breeze, of course- why they even bothered at this point, he didn’t understand- and sketched a small tree on his homework, complete with a boy sitting under it reading a book. Or a girl. It was impossible to tell from the doodle. Then he stared at it for a second.

 

And sent the fastest text to Daredevil he’d ever sent.

 

PP: what section of manhattan was dp patrolling

 

PP: because i memorized the avengers schedule

 

PP: clint was on central p duty

 

PP: so if dp was patrolling c.p at the same time they might have teamed up or smth

 

And then, after two minutes of anxiously waiting for a response, he remembered that it was, like, 9 pm for Daredevil and he was probably either on patrol or working, and either way, he was busy. He turned back to his homework, flipped through the pages. Should he be doing the art history homework due in two days? Probably not, no use for it. So he put it all into the binder and back into the backpack. Then, he glanced out the window.

 

Outside was bathed in soft blue light, testimony to the hour and time of year- purples that bled into pink into orange, fading down to bright sun at the horizon line. There were several birds on the telephone line outside, and he could see a light turning on across the street. It colored his hands a deep purple and left shadows where the window-frame was across his suit. A car passed quietly. Below him, the small lawn of grass was frost-tipped. He wondered who else was standing at their window, gazing out into the chilly morning light.

 

Was it worth going on patrol at this hour?

 

Musutafu was a pro hero city. New York City was vigilante ground zero. He could go patrolling here, but he’d be apprehended instantly by one hero or another; if he fought back, he’d be considered a villain and expelled from the school. If he was caught, he’d be considered a villain and expelled from the school. Hell, if they caught him acting as a vigilante, he’d probably be expelled for that, too.

 

He was celebrated as a superhero in NYC; there was no way of being considered one in Musutafu. In NYC, he even had the Avengers on his side. Musutafu definitely had more than two superhero agencies total. Probably at least 15.

 

Peter turned from the window, let the warmer-now, paler blue light reflect off the back of his normal suit. All stitched up and repaired, even the mask he’d haphazardly patched.

 

Instead, he went to the kitchen. Cooked an omelet, plain. Ate the omelet. Checked the time- 8:22. Then wondered what the hell he would do for thirty-eight minutes. _This is why the Avengers never take you on stakeouts, Peter._

 

He gave up and shoved his mask over his head, pushing his hair out of his face from underneath. He went back to the window, sliding it open and hopping through to the outside world. Even if he couldn’t be a vigilante here, he could still get to school and work in the labs. He’d wait here for Mr. Stark and Mr. Murdock to reply as he swung through the city.

 

On any other day, he’d relish the experience. A gentle breeze through his hoodie. A virtually crimeless city. No Scorpion or Vulture or Electro or Purple Man or _anyone_ to ruin his morning. Cool, crisp sunshine. The gentle, grounding ache of the wound that indicated he’d been productive and saved lives.

 

But today… today, he felt a bone-deep ache, a sort of sadness he’d barely ever felt before. Almost like grief, but settling deep inside his stomach. A longing for his old life, his old friends- to breathe in the scent of the city, gross as it was, and feel _home._ To know every alley like the back of his hand and to have enemies know his name- to watch them run when he entered the alley because he was _Spiderman._ But now they all knew Spiderman was a kid. Barely in high school, really.

 

He wondered if anything would ever be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know I'm playing fast and loose with comic canon. Let me explain real quick: 
> 
> This is post-season 3. As for comic canon, Daredevil never goes to San Fran, never outs himself to the world as Daredevil, the Purple Children don't exist, yadda yadda. I haven't incorporated 2019 Daredevil comics in yet, but who knows? Maybe I will. I don't know if I'm using hazel-eyed or blue-eyed Matt yet; I think I'll go with hazel, but I'm pretty sure I fucked up in a previous chapter, so uh ignore any mention of blue-eyed Matt, because I like hazel-eyed Matt better. (I kinda wanna bring everyone's favorite Chinatown vigilante teen in at some point, but that might end up later- I'm pretty sure he's supposed to be *younger* than Spidey.) A lot of comic book villains will show up in Manhattan, though! Stay tuned :)  
> As for Peter, he wears the Spiderverse suit, which has the Iron Spider in it as an option- Tony didn't want him to be too close to Iron Man and lose his own branding. Peter's 14, nearly 15; he became Spiderman a year or two ago, and since NYC is full of vigilantes, he's friends with, like. All of them. Because he's 14 and fucking adorable. Even Jessica Jones wouldn't be able to resist that puppy-eyed charm.  
> This is post-Civil War, where they talked it out like civilized people and decided to propose adjustments to the Accords, which were later abandoned altogether. The Avengers and Fantastic 4 are the only official agencies in NYC- groups like the Defenders exist, but the police turn a blind eye. I might bring Carol in later, but aliens in an already-weird, Quirky world might get complicated. For now, she's off in space, doing spacey things. Clint is comics!Clint, because mcu!Clint is the personification of flour. Nat has a personality. Wanda and Bucky are Jewish. All that good stuff!  
> Fisk & Vulture have been taken down. Thanos doesn't exist, because fuck him. Age of Ultron existed. Uh, Thor:Ragnarok is currently in progress.


	11. The Calm

A few days passed with no word from Mr. Stark or Mr. Murdock. But Peter understood why. According to the  _ Times, _ there had been a massive attack on the Compound by the super-strength research villain (nicknamed Strongman) who’d kidnapped Clint and Deadpool. They’d had to recruit Foggy Nelson, Matt’s boyfriend, and his Quick Info quirk. Now an impromptu team of Avengers and Defenders was tracking down the culprit in attempts to find Clint and Deadpool, which was going to be a mess if Peter had ever heard of one.

 

In the meantime, he was sailing through his classes, trying to avoid Aizawa- who he was pretty sure was still mad at him- and attempting to redevelop his friendships. Midoriya was back in classes, and he wasn’t mad at Peter, for some reason.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said when Peter brought it up. “You were trying to help me!”

 

“Yeah, but actions speak louder than intentions and my actions weren’t good!” Peter protested.

 

“You tried to save my life, Spidey!” Midoriya said loudly.

 

“Are you idiots arguing over whether Spiderman is responsible for hurting Deku? because-”

 

“Oh, lay off, Bakugo!”

 

They settled back into their seats for class. Peter ignored the teacher, who was talking about what was undoubtedly a Very Important topic about… things. And stuff. And modern literature, presumably, but, well, whatever. He’d read the book already, anyway.

 

Instead, he got Karen to pull up a game of solitaire and played it absent-mindedly while trying to brainstorm ideas. Deadpool had had no problem escaping most situations, no problem. The Quirk he’d mutated- one of only five people he knew with two Quirks- of self-regeneration had always worked, and he could usually escape any situation through his own intelligence, his Regen quirk, and his original Marksman quirk. For Wade to be trapped for more than a week- more than a few days, really- was unheard of. 

 

So how could someone keep Deadpool trapped? He hadn’t talked about any of those situations, but according to Matt, he’d escaped everything- even situations where he’d been trapped in space or constantly regenerating. That was kind of his talent, even with his stupid tendencies to go off and be as reckless as he could. Even with no healing factor- that had happened once or twice- he could get out of a bad situation. 

 

What if they had a hostage, though? What if that was why Matt was- no, that didn’t make sense, Deadpool would have escaped before Matt stopped responding anyway. Wade didn’t care about hostages, anyway. Plus, the whole situation with what’s-his-face, Strongman or whatever his name was, had somehow gotten Clint involved, and for Clint, escaping was old hat. It was excessively unusual for the Avengers to be incapable of finding anyone, too. Not to mention the Defenders- the group of double-quirked heroes were well-known for tracking people through their nonlethal violence and their PI’s skills. 

 

He pulled up the status of Karen’s searches with a tapped sequence on his knees- effectively a keyboard built into the suit. He was proud of it- he’d implemented it himself. 

 

She was still running the correlations between the Circuses, and was currently following what appeared to be a digitized paper trail through a few different shell organizations. Peter tried to follow what she was doing, but it was going too fast for him to really pay attention to and he eventually closed out of it, returning to his Solitaire game. For now, all he could do was… wait. Wait for the adults- the Avengers and the Defenders- to fix the problem, because he wasn’t in New York anymore. That  _ infuriated  _ him to no end.

 

The bell rang. He startled- had he been zoned out that long?- and walked slowly to lunch. He was controlling his breathing at this point-  _ calm down, Peter, just  _ **_calm down-_ ** and pulled up Ned’s texts on his phone as he sat down with his lunch. It was louder today- the kids were talking about some election.

 

“Who are you voting class president?” Tsuyu asked excitedly as she joined him at the table. “I think Midoriya would be really good. Or Momo!”

 

“I think…” Peter considered for a second. “I think Yaoyorozu would be best, she’s really responsible and knows a lot. Midoriya isn’t really super experienced, you know?”

 

“That’s fair, ribbt!” Tsuyu nodded. She scratched her chin thoughtfully.

 

The rest of the day passed pretty mundanely. He actually listened during a couple of his classes, but mostly he was wondering-  _ would anyone pick him? _ Getting votes in a scenario like this was unlikely at best for Peter, considering the spectacularly bad first impression he’d left. He’d tried his best to remake the friendships he’d sort of lost, but he wasn’t sure he was doing a good job of it.

 

Ten minutes before school ended, they were asked to fill out slips with their pick for class president.

 

_ Momo Yaoyorozu, _ he wrote in shaky Japanese lettering. Then he folded it up and deposited it into a box at the front of the room. The rest of the class seemed to still be thinking- Aoyama seemed to be drawing on his slip, and Kirishima was gnawing on the end of his pencil. Bakugo looked strangely pensive- not an expression Peter was used to seeing on him. Midoriya had no doubt on his face as he scribbled a name.

 

He sat in the near-silent classroom, listening to the scritch-scritch of pencils on paper and the quiet humming of Uraraka, who was clearly considering the choice pretty hard. No texts had come in, which worried Peter; it was unusual for Mr. Stark, at least, to be silent for so long. 

 

Peter got to the apartment later, changed, and tried to focus on homework; it wasn’t  _ working, _ and he wished for the millionth time he could go on patrol to clear his head. All of this would have been so much easier in New York. He could have helped. He realized he was  _ bored-  _ his previous pastimes were clubs and patrolling, all of which happened back at home. 

 

He wondered if UA had any clubs. After all, May had said that the move would be good for him to make connections in the industry if he hoped to be a Pro Hero. Privately, he really didn’t want to be- he liked engineering and biology and chemistry, and had been considering going into biotechnology. But he figured as long as he could get arrested on “criminal mischief” instead of having a proper license, he wouldn’t be really safe. 

 

Google, google, google… He typed in  _ UA club _ and found several organizations for alumni of UA, but nothing about actual clubs in UA. Well, that was helpful. He dropped his head onto the table with a quiet  _ thud. _

 

He wondered if he’d be any good at drawing. Midoriya was pretty good at it, and maybe it ran in the family? He pulled his homework to him and experimentally sketched what he thought might vaguely look like a face. But the longer he looked at it and tried to fix it, the more it seemed like a sort of twisted weird creepy face that stared into his soul with blank graphite eyes. He grumbled a little and erased it.

 

Once upon a time, he’d played the piano. Of course, that was when his family had money, and pianos were expensive. The digital ones he could pull up on a website weren’t the same- they didn’t give him the same feeling he’d once had producing notes from his fingertips. His other hobby was engineering and inventing, which he’d pretty much lost unless he wanted to spend all day in the lab. He didn’t even know what to make anymore- once upon a time it had been spare billy clubs and Widow’s Bites and arrows and communication devices, but now…

 

Peter checked the news. It was pretty uneventful- Manhattan undergoing cleanup from the latest attack- but something caught his eye.

 

Mr. Stark’s suit seemed to have some kind of new blaster on the back. He experimentally Googled some news on it.

 

_ STARK SUIT CLOCKED UP TO 400 MPH WITH NEW UPGRADE _

 

Well, that was an idea. Sure, his branding had to do with his webs, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to have a built-in jet with the Iron Spider, at least. 

 

How much time did he have left in the afternoon? 

 

And then he immediately tabled his idea for later, because  _ finally,  _ Daredevil had pinged him.

 

MM: Remember the man I told you about, Kimiko Itou? 

 

PP: yea

 

MM: Okay, so people have been going missing from New York.

 

PP: Missing like Clint?

 

MM: No. Because they all have one thing in common.

 

MM: Maxwell Dillon. Aleksei Sytsevich. William Baker. Quentin Beck. Adrian Toomes. Lonnie Lincoln. Leland Owlsley. 

 

MM: Wilson Fisk.

 

PP: shit

 

PP: those are all people you and i have defeated, right?

 

MM: With help from the Avengers, yes. 

 

PP: Electro, Rhino, Owl, Tombstone, Vulture…

 

PP: whats going on? is this strongman again?

 

MM: No.

 

MM: They’ve all had contact with Kimiko Itou before disappearing.

 

PP: hes in japan tho right?

 

PP: oh

 

PP: OH

 

MM: Yeah. They’re probably going to Japan.

 

MM: So you should probably be warned that there might be a  _ huge  _ uptick in professional crime.

 

PP: i bet they want revenge

 

PP: bet you 10 bucks

 

MM: I’m not taking that bet.

 

MM: Just be careful, Peter.

 

MM: I’m going to go. Foggy is getting on my case about sleeping again.

 

PP: thank god

 

PP: get some sleep mr daredevil

 

He shut his phone off and immediately flicked to the Vigilante Crimespotting site, an underground blog-style site to let other vigilantes know the situations near them so that people could stay informed. Sure enough, the top one was from Jessica Jones-

 

_ Was tracking Owlsley up thru Lincoln Square when he got a text on his phone- smth in Japanese- and immediately just fucking took off? Anyone know what’s going on? -JJ _

 

_ >Yeah same happened to me. I was trying to keep Rhino from busting up Harlem and halfway through, he got a call- took one look at the ID and ran for it. -LC _ __   
  


_ >>Was staking out one of Tombstone’s warehouses when one of his guards came up to him and said something. He ordered them to activate “code Epsilon” and disappeared into some secret vault. Couldn’t figure out the contents, but that’s not for lack of trying. Someone picked me up on a heat reader. Had to run. -BS _

 

That was interesting. He didn’t know Blindspot was still active, now that the school year had started back up. He clicked to the next tab. __   
  


_ >>>Stiltman is still on the loose. Which sucks, because Stiltman is an annoying little shit. -H _ _ ♀ _

 

>>>> _ Fucking Stiltman. -JJ _

 

_ >>>>Who’s Stiltman? -BSM _

 

Nobody had replied yet, so he figured he owed the smaller, darker Spiderman an explanation.

 

_ >>>>>Literally just a dude with hydraulic press legs. He can make himself really tall. Uh, DD thinks all these disappearances might be connected to a Japanese dude, Kimiko Itou. Anyone have info? What about Kingpin, Electro? Any news on Ryker’s, any breakouts? -SM _

 

Well, nobody was going to respond at that point. It was 3 am in New York City, which meant they were either on patrol or asleep. He took mental notes, though- he could rely on Stiltman’s absence, and the fact that the other vigilantes knew. They’d probably keep him posted.

 

In the meantime, he put his mask back on, even though he’d changed out of his suit. “Karen, project the schematics for Mr. Stark’s new mega repulsor looking thing.”   
  


A blue flicker in front of him showed him the model- it looked effectively like a rocket engine. He dissected the model, figuring out the wiring slowly. “I assume he had to upgrade the heat resistance?”

 

_ “Your suit should be heat resistant enough to be safe should you make this upgrade.” _ __   
  


“Brilliant. What’s it made from?”    
  


Karen started rattling off a list of materials, each popping up in the corner of his screen like a quest list in a video game. 

 

“Okay,” he said, scanning the list. “Nothing unobtainable, I think. I can go to the lab for most of these.” He checked the forums again, not really expecting anything, and was pleasantly surprised to find a response.

 

_ >>>>>Literally just a dude with hydraulic press legs. He can make himself really tall. Uh, DD thinks all these disappearances might be connected to a Japanese dude, Kimiko Itou. Anyone have info? What about Kingpin, Electro? Any news on Ryker’s, any breakouts? -SM _

 

_ >>>>>>Journalist friend tells me both Kingpin and Electro haven’t been seen in weeks. And that Ryker’s is hiding a major breakout of several supervillains. All your enemies, Spidey. Know anything about this? -FC _

 

Know anything about this? Was Punisher really assuming it was him? But the more he thought about it, the more he understood the concept- they’d gotten contacted by someone in Japan, and they all had connections to Spider-Man. 

 

_ >>>>>>>No, and I’m not responsible, but I’d put money on a revenge scheme of some sort. Thank your journalist friend for me. I’ll probably go talk to her for more info tomorrow. Don’t kill too many people. -SM _

 

He closed the tab and texted Ned. He could text Ms. Page later, when she might be remotely awake. For now, Ned’s tech skills were his best bet.

 

PP: Ned ned ned ned ned ned 

 

PP: need help

 

PP: “other guy” help

 

PP: can u hack into flight records from the last week or so? from ny- probably laguardia or jfk- to pretty much anywhere in japan. we’re looking for a list of names hang on

 

PP:  maxwell dillon, aleksei sytsevich, william baker, quentin beck, adrian toomes, lonnie lincoln, leland owlsley, wilson fisk

 

PP: theyre all villains so i’d make sure i was vpned if i were u 

 

NL: holy shit

 

NL: its like 3 am but ill do it in the morning

 

NL: is that ok?

 

PP: yea

 

PP: i might still need yr help afterwards tho

 

NL: omg yes sir ofc

 

PP: im your boyfriend not your boss lmao

 

NL: sorry babe

 

PP: uwu <3 good night thank you so much

 

NL: <3 u too!!! im happy i can help uwu

 

Peter couldn’t help the loopy grin spreading across his face as he closed the phone. He missed Ned. But Ned was probably safer with Peter out of New York, anyway.


	12. HAPPY BORTHDAY

"HAHAHAHA!" Peter laughed as he sat down in his chair. "Midoriya, that was really super funny!"  
  


"Yea it was!!!" Midoriya grinned. "I love changing Aizawa's juice out with cheese sauce!"  
  


"What!?" Aizawa exclaimed, making the unfortunate choice of coming back in at that very second. "You did what?!" And then his eyes began to glow, nto red, but green. He inhaled and then exhaled. "HHahhHAHHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,,,,,"  
  
  


ANd then he flung the entirety of class 1A out the window and they died yay

 

B YE  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy motherfuckign april fools yall


	13. USJ stands for Uh, Spidey's inJured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read the chap notes pls!

“The winner of the election is- drum roll, please.” Aizawa read boredly, with zero inflection whatsoever. “Izuku Midoriya for president. Momo Yaoyorozu for vice president.”

 

The class erupted into cheers. Even Bakugo clapped a few times. He’d looked moodier than normal recently, and Peter wondered what was going on. He hoped the kid was okay.

 

“Congratulations!” Midoriya said enthusiastically, grinning at Yaoyorozu.

 

“You too,” she said, a small smile on her face.

 

Peter hoped they would lead the class well. They were both incredibly capable and Yaoyorozu, at least, clearly knew what she was doing. Even Midoriya was making good headway on his Quirk, and it wasn’t affecting him quite as badly when he had to use it. 

 

Peter was learning, too- even though he wasn’t learning much from his classes, it was still good to learn how to work with other heroes. He’d never been very helpful on Team Red, since he didn’t know how to really follow Daredevil when he was bossing them around. 

 

But it was… still, very much, a learning curve. Plus, he had yet to understand how to counter his weaknesses. 

 

Which meant that when someone yelled because  _ holy shit _ the alarms were going off  _ intrusion intrusion intrusion,  _ even though his Spidey-sense wasn’t giving him any trouble, he let himself be swept away by the crowd. 

 

Everyone was screaming and yelling and panicking- people were pressing in on him from all sides, and it was getting louder and louder and someone almost accidentally pulled his mask up, but he barely felt anything but the brush of skin on skin, friction and noise. Was that his spidey-sense or his anxiety or a panic attack? He couldn’t tell anymore- it was chaos-  _ chaos- _

 

Something flew overhead and he looked up instinctively, breaths coming out ragged and harsh as a person with jet-engine legs-  _ Iida-  _ soared overhead, landing on the exit board and shouting at them all to  _ stop panicking, it was just the press _ . Iida’s legs sounded like the roar of a plane engine, and he dropped to the floor, clutching his ears. Everyone else seemed to be quieting; Peter wasn’t sure if he was as quiet as the rest of them, because his head was spinning and even the sounds of peoples’ clothing rustling and everything was so  _ loud. _ He wanted to take his mask off, get some fresh air, but the second his hand reached for it something in him screamed  _ danger danger danger  _ and he dropped his hand.

 

Everyone else was filing back inside now, but Peter was- Peter wasn’t- he  _ couldn’t- _

 

He took off for the bathrooms.

 

\-----

 

“Karen, please-  _ please- _ block out noise,” he whispered, head between his knees, sitting on the toilet seat. Everything was spinning, too bright and too loud and he could smell  _ everything _ and feel  _ everything. _ “Sensory- uh, sensory deprivation mode, please.”

 

Everything darkened, and the scent of vanilla was released- he tried to regulate his breathing, and when it didn’t work, Karen quietly gave him a count to breathe to. 

 

_ Inhale. 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold. 1, 2, 3, 4. Exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.  _

 

He breathed. He shut his eyes, and he breathed in the vanilla and listened to the emptiness and slowly, slowly, the tension melted from his shoulders.

 

He settled for a second. Sat there, in the silence, and let himself… enjoy the moment, curled up on a toilet seat, with some peace and quiet for once in his life.

 

But not for long, because dammit, he had to get back to class. Lunch was long over.

 

“Thanks,” he whispered hoarsely, which Karen took as a signal to lift the shields. As the vanilla scent was dissipating, he realized he’d been crying. Oh well- the mask would hide it.

 

\----

 

He eased the massive classroom door open and slid back into his seat  just as Midoriya announced, “Because of his actions and his calm in the face of crisis, I am hereby leaving the role of President and appointing Tenya Iida as my replacement.”

 

Peter actually had to do a double take.  _ What? _ He glanced around- everyone else seemed to be taking it in stride, clapping for Iida and continuing as though nothing had happened. Maybe it was an odd cultural difference? He didn’t understand, but… Midoriya  _ was  _ the class president. He had the right to make the choice. So Peter just clapped along, trying to ignore the buzzing in the back of his head he’d had since the intrusion alarm. 

 

Like something, somewhere, was not right.

 

But it  _ had  _ just been the press. Not Mysterio’s models- they wouldn’t have gotten past the gates. He ignored it. Pushed the feeling back into his Repressed Emotions jar and sealed the lid tight, and listened as Aizawa explained that they would be going on a field trip. Like, the next day. Which wasn’t that surprising, actually- May had had to sign a permission slip for “spontaneous day activities.” He supposed this was one of them.

 

Midoriya looked ecstatic- he was jumping around and telling anyone who would listen about the rescue exercise area, apparently called the “USJ,” or the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. Bakugo was letting little explosions off from his fingertips, and Peter had the sudden and vigorous urge to tell him to turn them the  _ hell  _ off, because they were gonna kill his eardrums. Instead, he observed as Uraraka excitedly talked to Yaoyorozu about the trip.

 

“Hey,” Hanta said from behind him. “You excited?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter lied. He could  _ feel  _ that something was going to go wrong- something prickled through his skin. “I just hope nothing goes wrong.”   
  


His confusion was genuine. “What could go wrong? I mean, there are gonna be tons of Pro Heroes there, plus all of us! Everything’s gonna be okay, Spider, you know?”

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said. At least, Peter really hoped he was right. “Just nervous, you know? Disaster situations aren’t really what I’m cut out for.”

 

“Oh, right, Spiderman- you stopped street crime, usually, right?”

 

“And individual villains,” Peter said. “People like the Rhino or Electro. Disaster situations were… well, there were other vigilantes who could take care of them, usually. I mean, I helped of course! But it’s not really my specialty.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Hanta sighed. “I don’t think my quirk is really made for the same type of close-range fighting yours helps with, though. For all that we’re similar…”

 

“We’re really not the same,” Peter nodded. “No, you’re right. But I’m glad you’re my friend, Hanta.” And he really did mean it- he didn’t know how he’d get through this school  _ without  _ someone in his corner. Not that the others weren’t friendly, they just- weren’t really as close.

 

“I’m glad you’re mine, too, Spidey,” Hanta grinned. 

 

\------

 

The next day came too soon for comfort- Peter slept poorly, in fits, and often he fell asleep only to  _ flinch  _ back awake hard. He arrived at school tired- but caffeinated- and almost sat down in his normal chair, only to remember that they weren’t going to the classroom first. They were piling onto a bus. 

 

So he sat with Hanta and Tsuyu on the bus, chatting about the differences between American and Japanese schools. They were particularly interested in the concept of classes changing instead of teachers, and asked him what his had been like. 

 

“Well, there was Mr. Gifford,” he said, thinking. “He had a big long snout, and looked like an alligator. His Quirk was that he could eat pencils and write with his fingers in any color.”

 

“Woah,” Hanta said. “That would be really useful for a teacher!”   
  


“He got in trouble a lot for eating all the pencils,” Peter grinned, even though they couldn’t see it. “He taught English.”

 

“Weird. What do you do for English in an American school, ribbt? You already speak English.”

 

“Some classes just make you read books. Lots of books,” he said. “My favorite was  _ Bridge to Terabithia,  _ even though it made me cry a lot.”   
  


“Oh! Here in English class we just learn words.”   
  


“And then there was Ms. Adams,” Peter said thoughtfully, remembering her. “I liked her at the time, but I’m thinking back on it and she was pretty mean.”

 

“Even American schools have bad teachers, ribbt,” Tsuyu said, pushing her hair out of her face. “Japanese schools you have to be respectful to the teacher even if they’re not nice.”

 

“Yeah, it’s the same in America,” Peter said. “But our version of respect just means  _ don’t talk while they talk, _ not, like, standing up when they walk into the room.”

 

“Huh,” Hanta said. He glanced at Tsuyu for a second, then looked back at Peter. “That’s weird. America is weird.”   
  


“Compared to Japan, yeah,” he nodded.

 

They sat in silence for a while. Peter checked the news on his GUI and then sent an email to Karen Page, who was Punisher’s “journalist friend.” At least, he assumed as much.

 

_ From: Spider-Man ( _ [ _ theresahyphen@gmail.com _ ](mailto:theresahyphen@gmail.com) _ ) _

 

_ To: Karen Page ( _ [ _ kpage@nybulletin.com _ ](mailto:kpage@nybulletin.com) _ ) _

 

_ Hey, _

 

_ According to the Punisher you know something about the Rykers breakout. Can u tell me anything? Word on the street is that theyre coming to Japan- some sort of revenge scheme. Double D might have more information.  _

 

_ Stay safe. _

 

_ Spidey _

 

He clicked Send, then turned to the window- the trees were thinning and turning to grass, and they seemed to be nearing… something. He smiled a little in anticipation. Maybe this would be his chance to show the world that he was as powerful as any Pro Hero!

 

“We must be getting close, ribbt,” Tsuyu commented from beside him. “Look!” 

 

Peter had already seen what she had pointed out- a massive glass dome, with various habitats inside. He moved over to let Hanta get a better look. “Woaaaaah.”

 

“So that’s the-” Peter was cut off by Aizawa.

 

“This is the Unforeseen Simulation Joint!” he called out across the bus. “Since none of you should have any bags, you can just come straight off the bus!”

 

There was a clamor as the students raced out the door, running straight across the parking lot to get inside the dome. Iida opened the door for everyone; the rush of warm air hit Peter like a blast from a blow dryer, and he shivered as it chased the cold down his spine. There was a raised dais at one end of the area, near the entrance, where they gathered under. Thirteen stepped onto the platform. She gazed expectantly over the crowd for a second.

 

“Welcome to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint!” she called out, and there were a few claps. Most people, Peter noticed, seemed antsy- excited, probably. “Here we have simulations to give you all the experience of a real-life disaster situation. Many of you will have Quirks that are primarily used to cause damage or hurt others. Here, we will teach you how to use them in a rescuing sense.”

 

There was a pause, and Peter’s Spidey-Sense flared.  _ Hard-  _ harder than they’d ever flared up before. Every nerve, every muscle, every single part of him screeched at him to  _ move move danger danger danger DANGER _ -

 

But he forced himself with every inch of his being to  _ stay still _ . The last time he’d moved Midoriya had gotten hurt. So he squeezed his eyes shut and tensed instead, every muscle in his body going taut-

 

And instantly, a man appeared through a portal. Followed by more, and more, and more, until there was a crowd of villains standing in front of them. Peter recognized some. Many, actually. The escaped villains- he knew they would be coming, though not so soon. Thirteen stepped back, obviously startled.

 

He froze. “Electro. Rhino. Owl, Tombstone, Vulture,  _ Kingpin. _ You shouldn’t have.”

 

“Spider-Man!” Fisk rumbled. “Together with his little band of Quirky friends. Daredevil put up  _ quite  _ a fight.”

 

_ It’s a trick. He’s trying to get in your head. _ “Daredevil’s fine,” he said aloud, and he didn’t know whether he was telling the Kingpin or himself. Then, with false bravado, he added, “Can we postpone this? See, I didn’t really schedule a meeting with you guys on my calendar, and my regular business hours are 10 pm to 3 am, so if you don’t mind making an appointment…?”

 

“Shut up,” Electro growled. “We were looking for All Might, but we’ll take you too.”

 

“Ah, I have fans!” he grinned, spreading his hands even though he was terrified under the mask. Behind him, nobody moved a muscle. “All Might’s not here. Can I take a message? Because clearly, you can’t. I’ll tell you plain and simple, I guess-  _ Go the hell away. _ ”

 

A man with a hand covering his entire face stepped forwards. “Where is All Might?”

 

“Spider,” Aizawa said from behind him, quiet, urgent, commanding. “Get back before you get hurt.” 

 

Peter didn’t move. The villains did, though; Electro lunged, hands crackling with lightning, and quicker than Spider-Man could quip, Aizawa had his goggles on and his tape was floating. Electro dropped to the floor again, lightning disappearing. “What-”

 

Peter’s Spider-Sense flashed again, and he rolled out of the way of the Vulture’s attack. “Aw, too bad, Toomesy!” he said aloud, letting instinct take over. “Early spider gets the bird!” The students had scattered in the wake of the massive costume, and only Hanta and Tsuyu were with him. “Hanta! His wings!”

 

He didn’t look back, but heard the sound of tape being released, so he trusted that Hanta was following directions. “Tsuyu-” He was cut off by a grunt as Kingpin pushed a fist into his stomach, and he went flying, barely able to register the pain as the wind was knocked out of him. He hit the wall hard, head throbbing as it impacted. He hit the ground, dazed - his vision swam, and his back ached. Tsuyu yelled and ran for it. He didn’t blame her. His legs felt like they had hundred-pound bricks attached to them, but he shoved himself upright with his arms and glared at the approaching man even though everything  _ hurt. _

 

“That was easy,” Fisk commented.

 

“Fuck you,” Peter spat, forcing as much venom as he could into the words. Then, he pressed his emergency web shooters’ buttons and yanked himself away from the man, every inch of him screaming in protest; he let go of the webs and rolled as he hit the ground. He squinted at Fisk to make him one person instead of the two fuzzed figures that were charging like a bull towards him, and hit the button in the center of his suit hard.

 

It began unfolding into the Iron Spider and he yelled in desperation, “Dammit, Karen, ignore the aesthetics and just get the suit on!” And then Fisk’s boot was colliding with his ribcage and he heard a  _ crack _ as he went flying again across the floor, head spinning. 

 

“Wow,” he managed as he got back up. “Am I that bad at soccer that I’ve been turned into the ball?” 

 

“You’re losing your touch, Pedro!” the Vulture called as he dive-bombed Peter; Peter threw himself to the ground and out of the way of the attack. Hanta hit the floor next to him with a yelp, then got up shakily. Peter joined him. 

 

“My name’s Spider-Man, hyphenated and everything,” he called to Vulture. “You’re losing your touch, old man! Forgetting my real name!” His senses flared, and he pulled Hanta out of the way of an attack from the Kingpin. Somewhere past that, he could see Yaoyorozu trying to fend off Tombstone, and Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow in combat with the Owl. Peter needed to help them, and soon- he punched Fisk a few times across the face and used the auxiliary legs provided by the Iron Spider to resist being knocked back by a glancing blow across his left collarbone. He felt it shatter and gritted his teeth against the pain. Red flashed on his GUI across his chest and one shoulder.

 

“ _ Tony Stark is calling, _ ” Karen informed him unhelpfully as he raised his good arm to defend against a flurry of blows. Hanta was trying to tape up the Kingpin, but it didn’t seem to be working; he was grimacing, which meant he was running out of tape. “ _ Your left clavicle, rib number 6, and rib number 9 are fractured. You also have a major concussion. Patching Tony Stark through, Keep the Kid Home protocol.” _

 

Peter grimaced. “Now’s not the time, Mr. Stark!” He delivered a sharp roundhouse kick right below the Kingpin’s ribs. “We’ve got a major, major situation here.”

 

“What is this? You told me you weren’t doing the whole combat thing,” Mr. Stark said. “You’re supposed to be in school. Why are you out vigilante-ing?!”

 

“Field trip! Except it got crashed by a grab bag of my worst enemies?” Peter ducked, feeling his brain jostle around in his head painfully, and tried to sweep the Kingpin’s leg. It didn’t work, and left him with the unpleasant feeling of having rammed his foot into a steel rod. The Kingpin picked him up by his wrists, and he cringed in pain; dislocated wrists would suck right about now.

 

“Kid, where are you?”   
  


“USJ- just-”

 

“SPIDER-MAN!” Kingpin bellowed, shaking him hard.

 

“ _ End call!” _ he yelped, and took a deep breath. “Sorry, bro!” He used his foot to hit Kingpin where the sun didn’t shine.

 

It did approximately nothing, and he was left with an angry Kingpin and a distressed Hanta, plus an entire class of heroes-in-training fighting all around him. “Uh, sorry?”

 

And then the Kingpin bellowed, “YOU HAVE GOTTEN ON MY LAST NERVE!” and flung him like a fucking Frisbee.

 

_ Great, _ Peter thought as he flew through the air in the worst possible way.  _ The headlines are gonna say that Spider-Man died of yeet. _

 

And then he remembered that he basically had built-in shock buffers, and braced himself hard as the auxiliary legs on his suit sent him bouncing across the ground like a glorified Mars landing craft, except if that landing craft was only 5’6” and highly breakable. He curled up on the ground in pain. 

 

“Ow,” he gritted out. He was  _ exhausted,  _ and now that the adrenaline had worn off, he could really feel the injuries. To make matters worse, he was laying in a field of snow, and the cold wasn’t helping matters.

 

A small part of his brain told him  _ no. _ Told him  _ stay awake, they need you.  _ Reminded him,  _ hey, you can’t thermoregulate and you’re in the cold, if you fall asleep here you’ll never wake up again. _ But the bigger part of his brain screamed in protest. He wasn’t sure he could physically move anymore. But he had to try. Spider-Man always got back up, right?

 

“Karen,” he coughed, “heater.” 

 

He was pretty sure he had a punctured lung at this point, because the cough he’d let out filled the mask with liquid, and when he pulled it up to breathe in the sharp, cold air, he found his mouth filled with copper. It drained out onto the ground in red, hissing against the colder snow and creating a stark contrast.

 

It was beautiful, really. But also  _ so  _ incredibly painful. 

 

He exhaled hard, then used the nanobots to wrap around his ribs as a brace. Slowly, Peter picked himself up, yanked his mask back down, and fired a pair of webs at the ceiling.

 

Nothing happened.

 

He tried again, pushing on his spinnerets as hard as he could. Something was  _ wrong. _

 

“ _ Peter, it appears that your spinnerets have become closed up by the force of Kingpin’s hands. Additionally, your wrists are displaying signs of severe bruising.” _

 

“Fuck,” he hissed. The healing factor would take care of it, sure, but for now… he’d have to find a hands-free approach. Hanta was facing down the Kingpin alone, and that wouldn’t ever end well.

 

He squinted. Somehow, Hanta wasn’t with the Kingpin anymore. In fact, it looked as though the Kingpin was… running towards him. Electro, Vulture, and the Owl were overhead, making their way towards him, too.

 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” he said again, this time with more fervor. He pulled his mask back up to spit out more blood onto the snow. He’d used his one calling card on Mr. Stark, and nobody else was in Japan. Nobody else could help him. He was alone.

 

“Well,” sneered the Rhino as he neared, “the itsy-bitsy-spider doesn’t seem to be climbing anymore.”

 

“I didn’t see you throwing me across the arena, Alexei,” Peter said mildly, letting blood dribble from his mouth onto the fresh snow. “Quips police is calling BS.”   
  


“And I don’t see you standing on your own two feet,” Sytsevich snarled back. “But here we are, no?”

 

“Well, unless I’m in some weird pain-induced fantasy wonderland,” Peter said, watching red spittle spatter the snow with the  _ p _ , “I’m pretty sure you’re right. But whatever, you know? I’ll beat you.” He tried to add his usual dose of false bravado to the mix, but the blood dripping from his mouth was probably not helping the ordeal and also, was it mentioned that it sucked to stand up? Because  _ damn,  _ it sucked to stand up. Everything hurt and he kept stumbling, but he was on two feet. Two feet were under him.  _ Wow. _

 

“Petey-pie, Peter, Petey,” Electro said mockingly. “It’ll hurt less if you just give up. We’ve promised one Otto Octavius your still-living body, after all.”

 

Owlsley added, “And I have it on good authority that-”

 

His Spidey-Sense flared again and this time, he didn’t bother ignoring it. He flung himself to the ground as a massive explosion went off over his head. He never found out what Owlsley had on good authority, because as he got back up, head ringing and lungs burning from smoke and snow and blood, he found Todoroki and Bakugo in the wreckage, breathing hard and soot-stained. The villains were gone.

 

“How- how long have you-” Peter started, remembering with terror Electro’s casual usage of his name.

 

“We were scheming,” Bakugo said flippantly. “But whatever. I’m turning into the Superhero Secret-Keeper, I guess. Whatever.”

 

“Thank you,” Peter coughed. Blood speckled his hand when he brought it away from his mouth, and he collapsed to the ground- the sheer weight of his own body entirely too much for him to handle.

 

Without speaking, his saviors helped him to his feet, one arm over each’s shoulder, and together they stumbled out of the wreckage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Spidey's email- theresahyphen@gmail.com - actually exists! Feel free to send him fanmail or questions! You'll get answers and I'll add fanmail chapters every now and then with all the emails I've received. 
> 
> Please feel free to interact with Spidey! He's a real people person and would love to know the impact he's having on people... or really just talk to people. He's kinda lonely right now. Be his friends!!!


	14. Ouch

Evidently, they didn’t stumble out of the wreckage fast enough. 

 

Peter’s fingers tightened on Bakugo’s shoulder as his Spider-Sense sent a shockwave down his spine. The only warning he could give then was “Something’s coming,” before-

 

_ Whoomp. _

 

It was Vulture. Again. Dammit. The green lights adorning the undersides of his wings buzzed overhead, coming in for a landing directly in front of him. All three boys stiffened; he could feel Bakugo go tense to his right, and he could see Todoroki’s jaw clench visibly. Peter wasn’t sure he could stand much more of this bullshit; he pulled his mask down to hide his mouth.

 

“Peter!” the Vulture greeted. Peter winced internally.  _ Play dumb, _ he told himself. 

 

“Who?” 

 

“Aww, trying to keep a secret identity?” 

 

“Not sure what you’re talking about,  _ Adrian Toomes,”  _ he snarled.  _ How can I best wound my opponent without using hands or webs? _ “How’s LIz? Doing okay in her new school? Adjusting to life without a father?”

 

Vulture let out a roar at this one and lunged at them. Peter winced. He’d royally screwed up this time- couldn’t run, couldn’t hide. He breathed once. In and then out, knowing that his breaths were ragged and useless; felt blood dribble from his lips on the way out. Closed his eyes tight, prepared to take the brunt of the attack-

 

Todoroki muttered, “Really?” and blasted him in the wing with ice. Toomes staggered backward, giving Todoroki the time to weld him to the ground with more.

 

Peter activated his emergency web shooters on his right arm, aiming around Bakugo’s neck to spray the man with enough webs to keep him bound for a while. His left arm hung at his side, still limp and nearly useless from the collarbone injury; his head spun and his ears were still ringing, but he was  _ alive. _ Todoroki set his face in a grim, straight line as the Vulture’s abusive screams rang out.  _ “Peter Parker, I will hurt everyone you’ve ever loved! Liz was too good for you anyway!” _

 

“We gotta move fast,” Bakugo said.

 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “Uh… super-secret-identity, can that still be a thing?”

 

“Who do you take us for? You think we care enough to go digging into some kid’s identity?” Bakugo grunted, and Peter wanted to cry in gratitude. That was kind of what everyone else did, after all- after Matt had figured it out, Jessica Jones had accosted him that afternoon, telling him  _ not to get himself killed. _ Wade had just somehow  _ known,  _ and Mr. Stark had just broken the identity down with a frigging steamroller. 

 

“Thanks,” he managed shakily. “We- we gotta help the others.”

 

“You are not doing  _ shit, _ ” Bakugo snarled, surprisingly upset. It took Peter by surprise a little. “You’re bleeding from your mouth, you sound like someone’s just killed your grandma and shoved lighter fluid down your throat even  _ with  _ your weird Robo-Japanese mask, and you can’t use your Quirk because someone fucked up your mutation. We’re taking you to the bus, and you’re grabbing the first aid kit on there and fixing it, because I don’t know shit about first aid and you’re hurt.”

 

Peter didn’t have it in him to disagree. Bakugo was right; the Iron Spider suit wasn’t helping him now, and he _ was  _ hurt. So he let the pair of boys navigate the treacherous landscape, leading him back to the bus.

 

“Everyone else was fine,” Todoroki explained calmly as they hobbled their way back.. “Midoriya shattered a pair of fingers, and Kaminari’s woozy but everyone else ended up okay when Iida got All Might to come back. We were sent back out to find you, since neither of us were particularly affected.”

 

“Mmm.” Peter’s head hurt and his ears rang. He was definitely seeing double, and the world spun with every step. He didn’t particularly care about much except keeping himself awake, breathing semi-normally (because yeah, that was definitely a punctured lung, Jesus Christ,  _ ow _ ) and staying upright. The taste of salt and iron was still flooding his mouth, and tears of pain burnt his eyes. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to even open his mouth more than it already was, letting the rich scent of blood fill the mask. He was pretty sure it was leaking down his chest now. Wondered, woozily, whether he’d lost too much blood at this point.

 

“Spider-Man.” Bakugo was saying. It sounded like the second or third time he’d said it. “Spider-Man.  _ Peter. _ ”

 

“Mmh?”

 

“Stay the hell awake. Hey, Uraraka was telling us about your AI. Name’s Karen, right?”   
  


“Mhm.” Peter didn’t feel like answering questions, but there wasn’t much choice. His legs kept moving, somehow, but he wasn’t sure how much longer they could do that.

 

“Okay.” Bakugo cleared his throat. “Karen, can you hear me?”

 

A quiet, female, robotic voice emanated from the suit. Peter didn’t pay much attention to his AI, only catching the words out of instinct.

 

“Of course I can.”   
  


“Great. Great.” Bakugo sounded out of his element. Peter didn’t quite understand why. It was just a conversation. “What are Peter’s injuries?”

 

There was a moment. “Spider-Man has a severe concussion, a broken collarbone, four broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a twisted ankle. He also has several contusions and scrapes, especially on his face, chest, and wrists. Both of his spinnerets are sealed shut- possibly using his own webbing.”

 

“Fuckin’ list’s longer than my-”

 

Peter stopped listening at that point- not voluntarily, but because the world which was already fuzzy and fading into doubles was rapidly disappearing before his eyes, and he made a noise that was supposed to be  _ “no” _ before he fell sideways and blanked out.

 

\-----

 

Peter woke up in the medical wing, dizzy and in pain. Nobody was there. Not his aunt, not a nurse, not a teacher. Not even any students. 

 

He tried to breathe, needed oxygen, but failed spectacularly- something was in his throat. He choked and coughed, his good hand scrabbling frantically to pull the tube from his mouth.

 

He gagged as he tore it from his lips, then spent a second heaving, trying not to throw up; each convulsion wracked his ribs with pain. His throat tried to close around itself, tried to eradicate the skin’s memory of the tube down it. It didn’t work, and he took a few seconds to properly inhale and exhale. His suit was still on, thank God, but the Iron Spider suit had been retracted and the brace of nanobots around his ribs had been replaced by a medical belt that was holding his ribs in place so they could heal back up. Luckily, it appeared that his healing had targeted the lungs first. His wrists felt better, too; less swollen, even with the IV in his incapacitated arm.. He experimentally fired a web at the ceiling with his other arm. The fluid came out this time, runnier than usual, but it was  _ there.  _ He still couldn’t move his other arm.

 

He was back. He had his Quirk back- didn’t lose it like he lost his other one to the spider bite. Everything  _ hurt, _ and he still wasn’t certain he wasn’t dying, but he… he was  _ alive. _ Which… 

 

He wondered how everyone else was doing. He didn’t remember much after the explosion. He remembered that Bakugo and Todoroki had helped him out. Told him something about Midoriya getting hurt. He knew the Vulture had come back, and that the pair of boys knew his name. His identity. 

 

That put them at risk, too. He didn’t want to drag his classmates into the clusterfuck of his life. He wished for the millionth time that he was still in New York, with Ned and MJ and Mr. Stark and the other vigilantes and… well, everyone, honestly. He wished he was literally anywhere but here.

 

But at least here people didn’t know his identity. He could focus on having one personality, instead of two. He didn’t have to be so concerned about people finding out one day that skinny, short, nerdy Peter Parker, who never turned his chem homework in on time and put himself in the way of Flash’s punches, was a vigilante-by-night who took down robbers and webbed them to walls and had a six-pack.

 

Well, okay, he didn’t mind them finding out that he had a six-pack. Maybe he could’ve gotten Liz that way.

 

But then he wouldn’t be dating Ned, and ooh, that was a weird and not entirely pleasant train of thought. He didn’t especially want to think about life without Ned. Speaking of which.

 

He pulled the mask back over his now-clean mouth, recoiling at the stench of blood. “KAREN, do you have, like, a power cleaner in here?”

 

_ “Unfortunately, I do not,”  _ Karen answered.  _ “Would you like to begin work on an upgrade that would include a cleaner?” _

 

“No thanks. How long was I out?”

 

“ _ You were fighting the villains off for approximately 30 minutes, and unconscious for around 5 hours.” _

 

“Shit. Can you bring up the Discord chat for Ned and Michelle?”

 

_ “Sure thing, Peter.” _

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:42 PM

uh just fyi im ok

but i may have accidentally had my identity forcibly revealed?

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:43 PM

What happened? I heard there was a commotion at the USJ Japan this morning, something about a Ryker’s breakout and some villains showing up

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:44 PM

yea

uh the breakout happened abt a week ago i think?

but yea a bunch of the worst villains i put in jail plus a bunch more showed up at my class’s field trip

a bunch were looking for all might i guess?

but a bunch more were looking for me and i was in pretty bad shape for a bit

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:45 PM

Details

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:45 PM

alphabetical, chronological, importance, or top down?

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:45 PM

That bad?

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:48 PM

major concussion, bruised face, bruised neck, shattered(?) collarbone, broken ribs, punctured lung, bruised ribcage, slashes across my left hip, bruised wrists, basically glued my spinnerets shut, uh, bruised left leg, twisted(?) ankle

and thats not mentioning all the hits to my ego lol

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:48 PM

I thought you had the call button to Stark for this express purpose.

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:48 PM

yea but i kinda hung up on him bc fisk was shaking me upside down 

like he expected jewelry out of my pockets or some shit

 

nedhead Today at 2:49 PM

srry i just got online it’s like late

jesus dude u gonna be ok??

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:50 PM

bonus of having healing powers

everything except a bunch of the bruises+slashes are healed. p sure i cant stand rn tho, and im feelin p beat up overall

 

nedhead Today at 2:50 PM

thats still! not really good! but ok

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:52 PM

yea i noticed

ill be ok for a while tho

im in the medwing, but uh

vulture + electro told my identity to a couple classmates?

they seem ok tho

promised to keep the identity safe

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:53 PM

If they do jack shit, I will fist-fight them

Or just use my Quirk and make them not reveal your identity

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:54 PM

they live in japan

 

nedhead Today at 2:55 PM

voice chat? put her on speakerphone ig

does persuasive speech quirk still work thru speakerphone

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:55 PM

I don’t know, actually. Does someone want to test that?

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:55 PM

no thx

 

nedhead Today at 2:55 PM

hah no

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:56 PM   
Well, that settles it. 

Oh, that reminds me! Peter.

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:56 PM

why did i just feel a shiver run down my spine

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:56 PM

You promised me you’d get me a friendship- or at least an interview- with Karen Page

Also Pepper Potts

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:57 PM

i dunno what to tell u man karen’s email is public

so is peppers 

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:57 PM

Yes, but they must both be really busy people.

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:57 PM

oh shit that reminds me

i emailed karen pre-usj asking for info about the ryker’s breakout

bit late now but i shld let her know what happened

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:58 PM

Get her an exclusive? She’s a good journalist.

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 2:58 PM

i dont wanna put her in danger tho

like dont get me wrong id consider it

but rn? after the attack?? i dont want her to suddenly be faced with like electro or some shit

shes friends w daredevils alter ego but i dont want to drag dd into this mess either

 

Emm Jay Today at 2:59 PM

Peter, after what you just described, I’d be calling the Avengers.

 

nedhead Today at 3:00 PM

same

ooh look at that time to go to bed

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 3:00 PM

im gonna go email page. lmk if yall need anything i think im stuck in this hospital wing for a bit anyway

 

Emm Jay Today at 3:01 PM

I need an interview with Ms. Potts and Ms. Page.

 

oof ouch my boings Today at 3:01 PM   
patience my young padawan

younger than me by like a month but still a young padawan

 

He closed the window down with a few easy commands, then, realizing it would probably be a helluva lot easier to send a real email than it would be to dictate one, inquired, “Karen, where’s my phone?”

 

“Your phone is out of battery, so I cannot locate it,” Karen said regretfully. “Its last known location was at your apartment, so it can be assumed it is still there.”

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled, knowing that villains did not, in fact, have his phone and, by extension, all of its information. Dictating his email it would have to be.

 

_ From: Karen Page ( _ [ _ kpage@nybulletin.com _ ](mailto:kpage@nybulletin.com) _ ) _

 

_ To: Spider-Man ( _ [ _ theresahyphen@gmail.com _ ](mailto:theresahyphen@gmail.com) _ ) _

 

_ Hi Spider-Man,  _

 

_ I did investigate the Rykers breakout. No good news, unfortunately: a list <list.docx> of inmates that broke out is pretty much all I got. I did hear news about a group trip to Japan, but I haven’t talked to our mutual friend yet.  _

 

_ Stay safe, _

 

_ Karen Page _

_ Investigative Journalist for the New York Bulletin _

_ Paralegal for Nelson, Murdock, and Page _

  
  


_ From: Spider-Man ( _ [ _ theresahyphen@gmail.com _ ](mailto:theresahyphen@gmail.com) _ ) _

 

_ To: Karen Page ( _ [ _ kpage@nybulletin.com _ ](mailto:kpage@nybulletin.com) _ ) _

 

_ Hey, _

 

_ Just to keep you updated- the intel was right. Got ambushed at the USJ Japan by a group of inmates- same ones on that list. Got pretty beat up and didn’t really succeed, but I’m doing better now. Word of advice? Avoid punctured lungs if you can. They suck. _

 

_ Let me know if you hear any info abt those guys whereabouts. _

  
  


“Stay safe parentheses r than me parentheses comma enter Spidey,” he finished, and then added, “Send email.”

 

The email zipped offscreen, and he glanced around him. It was 3:15 pm, and he realized he was really hungry.

 

He wasn’t attached to anything except the heart monitor on his finger, so he pulled it off and sat up in bed, swinging his legs onto the frigid linoleum floor. 

 

He stood up shakily, feeling much like a newborn deer; his ankle pulsed under his weight now that the adrenaline wasn’t rushing through it, and his ribs ached with the effort. But he was standing.

 

And still, nobody was in the room.  _ Why is nobody here? _ This was unusual- it was a school nurse’s office, after all. Wasn’t it against policy to leave a patient alone in the room?

 

“Karen,” he said aloud, “can you scan the building? Let me know if there are any irregularities or unusual activities.”

 

The school lit up in green, highlighting people in purple. Immediately, Peter spotted a group of people in the auditorium- he recognized a few of his teachers’ silhouettes.  _ Staff meeting, then. I have time. _

 

He sat back down on the bed and fired a text to May next.

 

**_Hey, May, sorry to make you worry. I don’t know if you’ve heard what happened yet or if you’ve been working, but there was an attack at our field trip. A bunch of villains from NYC as well as Japan got involved and I was hurt pretty bad. Mostly healed by now but I was out for about 5 hours._ **

 

Her reply was fast.

 

_ Peter.  _

 

_ My gray hairs are getting gray hairs. _

 

_ Come straight home after school, okay? No swinging. Just walk home and I’ll check you out. _

 

**_I’m in the medical wing. I think they’ve already checked me out._ **

 

_ The school put you in danger, Peter, I trust them as far as I can throw them in my nursing scrubs with gloves. _

 

**_You’re strong._ **

 

_ Not that strong, I promise you. _

_ Can you give me a list of injuries? _

 

Peter paused. He didn’t especially want to make May worry.

 

**_Just some bruises, a few broken ribs, might have a twisted ankle._ **

 

_ Not that bad, then. You were unconscious for five hours? _

 

**_Er, well, that’s the injury list after five hours of super-healing._ **

 

_ Peter, you are going to be the death of me. Tell me you at least kept your backpack this time. _

 

Shit.

 

**_I may have left it on the bus? I can check if my classmates brought it in._ **

 

_ You and I are having a serious talk, Peter. About backpacks and also getting hurt. _

 

_ And I am having a very stern talk with Mr. Stark about this. _

 

_ He was supposed to keep you safe. _

 

**_That was my fault. I hung up on him._ **

 

_ Still. _

 

He smiled a little, under the mask.

 

**_See you tonight, Aunt May._ **

 

_ See you tonight, Peter. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm taking a trip for four days or so as of Thursday, so updates might be a little slower. I hope it won't affect much, though, since I still have school break. Have a good time while I'm gone! I'll still be responding to comments tomorrow night.
> 
> Like I said last update, don't be afraid to email in with questions for Peter directly! His email is theresahyphen@gmail.com :) There's a reason I set it up, after all, and it's not just to sit there with an empty inbox!


	15. Peace

 

Peter elected to walk home because his spinnerets might have been working, but that didn’t mean he was going to use them immediately. That sounded like asking for trouble, and plus, he didn’t want to wear them out when they’d just been healed. Besides, his ankle felt fine, so it couldn’t be that bad, right?

 

He found his backpack outside the nurse’s office, so he didn’t bother signing out. Just left a sticky note with what Karen assured him was the Japanese kanji for _thank you_ and wandered up the stairs to the costume repair center; the school was out for the day, so he let himself in and started repairs on his suit. It was methodical, slow, and repetitive work; he stitched the reinforced fabric in by hand because a machine would break the needle instead of going through the suit.

 

It was simple work, though, and he found solace in it after the day’s events. _Stupid,_ he cursed himself in his head. _I’m fifteen and I can’t even handle people I’ve already beaten. I almost died. What would happen if I died? There are so many people I’d let down. I can’t let myself die. Can’t let myself get caught off guard again._

 

He shoved the needle back through with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary. _I won’t ignore Mr. Stark again. I could’ve had suits for backup._

 

What he needed, he realized, was some kind of contingency plan. Protocols in place for in case he died, because who would protect New York when he was gone? New York Heroes took care of intergalactic threats. That was what the Avengers were for. But New York vigilantes took care of the threats on their streets. He had been the most active one. If he died, who would watch New York City for him?

 

He swallowed around a lump that had appeared unprompted in his throat and focused for a second on his needle, matching time to his breaths. _In, out. In, out. In, out._

 

“ _Peter, your heart rate is elevated. May I suggest taking a break?”_

 

He ignored the soft voice of Karen through the mask, the tee shirt cold against his skin and rough against the pink, raw, but _healing_ scratches against his side. _In, out. In, out._

 

He was out of thread. _Tie the end, grab more, in, out, in, out, thread the needle, out, in, out._ The needle went back into the fabric, red thread pulling the material taut. Simple motions.

 

His eyes burned. _Stupid._

 

The needle broke between his shaking fingers, and he almost let out a sob of frustration but bit it back. Instead, he reigned himself in. _In, out. Not that big a deal. Get another. In, out, in, out._ He picked up a second needle and laced the thread through its eyehole. _In. Out. In, out, in, and out. Deep breaths._

 

Peter consciously eased the tension from his shoulders and worked to keep stitching; keep bringing the needle through the suit again and again.

 

He changed there in the lab once it was done; the suit’s comforting weight, like a second skin, helped to bring him down from the edge of panic.

 

Then, he dropped into the next-door chemical lab and mixed a decent amount of web fluid. He poured it into the refillable canisters that were already attached and refitted them, then filled more containers with them- the lab seemed to have a never-ending supply of smallish jars- and dropped them into his backpack gently. If they exploded, he’d _really_ be in for it.

 

But he knew May would be looking for him. Karen’s GUI reported that he had spent an hour- _an hour. I spent an hour almost having a panic attack. Jesus._ He had to get home. So, back slung on his back, he left the lab, clenching and unclenching his fists to stop the shaking in his hands. _Ugh. Fuck._

 

He walked down the stairs and let Karen’s built-in sunglasses take care of the brilliant afternoon sun and the crisp, chilled air. He had to consciously remind himself to _walk_ on his way home, to not take off swinging just because he was in the mask. He knew he was limping a little. Not much to be noticeable, but he could feel the way one foot left the ground in a shorter timespan than the other, and every step did send a twinge of pain through his ankle. Everything sucked. Why did he choose to be a superhero again?   


The roads were longer, too, walking, so it took Peter about fifteen minutes to walk home. He wished his webs had some sort of mechanism that would help him keep weight off his ankle, apart from swinging; he didn’t want to use up all the emergency web fluid. If the day’s events were anything to go by, he’d start keeping his web shooters on at all time. He couldn’t afford his spinnerets breaking again, now that he knew it was possible.

 

He limped up the stairs- stairs _hurt,_ with his ankle. Sure enough, when he opened the door, his phone was on the counter, still trying to charge even though it was at full percentage. He turned it on; zero new notifications, which didn’t surprise him. Most of his pings would be on his computer.

 

He opened that. It was still open to Vigilante Crimespotter, where a _KP_ had posted about the USJ break-in.

 

_Spidey let me know that the USJ Japan was broken into by your missing villains. Will keep you posted. -KP_

 

_ >Is he okay, and was there any information given that could be important to finding DP and Hawkeye? -DD _

 

_ >>Any other scenario I’d be tempted to tell you to just leave Pool behind, but since SM’s gone we do need him. So if that’s what’s holding any of you back from leaving info, just do it. -BB _

 

Peter frowned. Bucky didn’t post often- something must really be up. He tapped out a reply.

 

_ >>>Hey guys! I’m doing all right now- was knocked out for a while, though. Fisk packs a punch. Nothing groundbreaking, but I found out they’re definitely working with a group of villains. Their leader had a creepy hand over his face, I think. They wanted All Might, and weren’t above fighting kids to get to him. On that note, though, the guys who broke out were definitely just after me and played football with me for a while. A couple friends managed to knock them out. but I don’t know current whereabouts b/c I passed out pretty soon afterwards. Please learn from my mistakes and avoid punctured lungs. -SM _

 

A reply came in almost immediately. He wondered if he’d just been refreshing the page.

 

 _ >>>>Good to hear, Spidey. Anyone else I should know about? I think I have a lead on the two missing heroes; will follow up later. -DD _   


_ >>>>>Nobody that I know of. Fisk did the most damage- I wonder if he’s enhanced? Most people can’t break my spinnerets or my suit. Fisk managed both. -SM _

 

 _ >>>>>>I don’t think he’s enhanced, but he’s a pain in the ass. If I spot him in Manhattan I’ll hunt him down for you. I’m taking good care of your city, by the way. People keep giving me food. It’s bizarre. -DD _   


_ >>>>>>>Ah, yeah, that happens. Great if you’re low on cash or blood sugar and need a quick pick-me-up. Make sure to say thank you to the lady who leaves coffee and cookies out on her windowsill for the vigilantes on the Upper West side. -SM _

 

Peter closed the tab. He didn’t have homework, of course, but he set himself to the task of finding Hawkeye and Deadpool in the meantime. They’d been gone for weeks now.

 

“Karen,” he said aloud, “can you find me all security camera footage of Hawkeye and Deadpool since they disappeared?”

 

“ _I have located one clip, from LaGuardia airport.”_

 

“Great. Roll footage.”

 

The scene lit up in front of him, and the pair walked through the vicinity. They seemed to be bickering, and then one glanced up surreptitiously. Then, they both vanished.

 

“Can you replay that, but slow it down? See if you can get audio.”

 

“ _No audio detected. Engaging lip-reading software.”_

 

There was a pause. Then it started over again.

 

The two walked into the scene again. Deadpool’s mask was moving, but no sound was being provided. Hawkeye said in response, “Look, maybe we shouldn’t be-” He glanced up. Saw the camera. Then, courtesy of slow-motion footage, was seen pulling Deadpool out of the camera range.

 

Immediately, he pulled the mask off and opened his texts to Daredevil.

 

PP: found some footage from laguardia.

 

PP: hawkeye and dp weren’t kidnapped, i think theyre working together to tail someone?

 

PP: footage shows the two walking thru laguardia together, deadpool says something, hawkeye replies with “look maybe we shouldnt

 

He reviewed the footage and continued the text.

 

PP: footage shows the two walking thru laguardia together, deadpool says something, hawkeye replies with “look maybe we shouldnt be” something, then he looks up, sees the camera, pulls dp out of cameras vision

 

There was no response from Daredevil, so he backed out to text Hawkeye instead.

 

PP: why didnt u tell anyone u and dp were working together

 

PP: weve been looking 4 u 4 weeks

 

PP: where r u

 

He sent the same texts, only slightly modified, to Deadpool, and then sent some to Ned.

 

PP: video1.amv

 

NL: woah

 

NL: you were looking for them right

 

NL: what can i do to help

 

PP: first off i love you ur the best

 

PP: second i need u to hack laguardias check in records, see if clint or wade signed in

 

PP: wades pretty unmistakeable so if they have descriptions of the people look for a description of a dude covered in burns

 

PP: if not ive got a list of clints usual pseudonyms i stole from friday a few months back

 

NL: working on it

 

PP: here

 

PP: bartonym.docx

 

NL: thx

 

NL: gimme a bit, its p late here so it might take me a bit

 

PP: lit tysm ily ❤❤❤

 

NL: ily2 ❤❤❤

 

It wasn’t so bad, Peter reflected, to have a support network. He wondered how twelve-year-old Peter would have taken it if he’d told him that one day, he would be friends with vigilantes and superheroes, and that he’d have superpowers.

 

He scrolled social media, at a loss for what to do. He’d gotten in contact with… almost everyone. Closing his phone, he swapped back to his computer to try one last person.

  


_From: Spider-Man (_ [ _theresahyphen@gmail.com_ ](mailto:theresahyphen@gmail.com) _)_

 

 _To: Karen Page (_ [ _kpage@nybulletin.com_ ](mailto:kpage@nybulletin.com) _)_

 

_Hey,_

 

_I’m sure you’ve seen Crimespotter, but do you know anything at all about Hawkeye and Deadpool? I just wanna make sure they’re safe. I’ve attached a video I found of them. See if you can talk to Jessica Jones, too- she might know._

 

_If you have to get in touch quick, my number is 9994607952. Feel free to text me._

 

_Stay safe._

 

_Spidey_

 

_attached: <video1.amv> _

 

There. He leaned back and cracked his knuckles, relishing in the feeling. Finally. Finally, he could have a moment to himself, with nothing but the looming question of what the hell Deadpool and Hawkeye were doing on a mission together.

 

He could take the opportunity. Do his homework. Or he could make the perfect moment better by calling Ned.

 

He checked his watch. It was three AM in New York. Okay, so he could maybe not call Ned. But Mr. Stark would be up at that hour!

 

He opened a tab to call Mr. Stark with the video cam built into the Starkbook XS, a brand new model Mr. Stark was planning to release soon. He picked up on the second ring- a confused, concerned, grease-smeared face appeared in the camera. “Peter?” Mr. Stark asked. “Are you okay? And just for the record- _just for the record-_ I do _not_ appreciate you snubbing me like you did at the USJ. What the hell was that?”

 

Peter winced. “Oh, uh, yeah. A bunch of my old, uh, friends-”

 

“By which you mean enemies?”

 

“-By which I mean enemies. A bunch of people I’d put in Ryker’s decided that it just wasn’t the place for them, and the right place was the Unforeseen Simulation Joint Japan, where they could easily get in, uh, touch with me.”

 

Mr. Stark’s eyes narrowed. “How badly were you hurt?”

 

“Uh… punctured lung was the worst of it, apart from the fact he forced my spinnerets closed. But- but it wasn’t your suit’s fault, Mr. Stark, honestly, Fisk just… punched clean through it, like sand.”

 

Mr. Stark made a few quick notes at the computer behind him, then rubbed his temples. He looked exhausted, now that Peter was focusing; the bags under his eyes were frankly enormous, and there was a coffee stain on the neck of his sweater. He could see the tracks where Mr. Stark had rubbed his eyes with greasy fingers and left pale brown finger marks across his face.

 

“How long have you been awake?” Peter asked cautiously.

 

Mr. Stark made a noncommittal grunting noise. “Mm, prob’ly too long.”

 

“Go to sleep, Mr. Stark. This can’t be healthy.”

 

“Can’t sleep. Someone launched another damn lawsuit at me and half my lawyers are off with the flu, so I’m running the trial myself.”

 

Peter nodded. If it wasn’t at such a spectacularly bad time for Murdock, he’d have recommended their firm, but Matt probably had his hands full with the nocturnal activities.

 

As if on cue, Tony added, “And my usual backups are dealing with Clint’s decision to work with a psycho.”

 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “You know Daredevil’s alter ego?”

 

“Yeah. Do you?”

 

“Yeah.” He shouldn’t have been surprised they had him on retainer, honestly.

 

“I have half a mind to send him to Japan, honestly, just to launch a lawsuit against the fuckers who attacked you,” Tony yawned. “That’d be a riot.”  


“Go to bed,” Peter sighed, then yawned. “Dammit. Why are yawns contagious. I’m not even tired.”

 

“Mmm. So what are you learning in English?”

 

 _Perfect._ He could use this. As Peter launched into his usual _English is so stupid can’t I just have a study hall instead_ spiel, he stopped looking at the screen, but listened carefully; it was a prime opportunity to let Mr. Stark fall asleep. Halfway through- maybe halfway, he didn’t know, he probably could’ve kept filibustering if he wanted to- he glanced back at the screen when a clatter interrupted him.

 

Tony was asleep, and a wrench had just fallen from his hand. Peter smiled. His mentor really had needed the sleep.

 

“Friday,” Peter said quietly, “if you can hear me over the monitor, can you get Ms. Potts to bring him to bed?”

 

“ _Certainly, Peter.”_

 

“Good night, Friday. And good night, Mr. Stark.” It felt weird saying it while the sun was right in front of him, streaming through the windows. He tapped the end call button.

 

The screen went dark.

 

And the world, for once, was calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long!!!!! I had like zero writing time over break. 
> 
> And don't worry, it won't be peaceful for long :)
> 
> Feel free to yell at me in the comments.


	16. chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i suck at writing im so sorry it took so long and all you got was filler

[VIDEO TRANSCRIPT:  _ instagram.archives12081991993@realspiderman _ : 11/2/19 02:23:54]

 

<Spider-Man leans back in the chair. He runs a hand over the top of the mask as though running it through hair, then scratches the top. He looks disheveled even in the suit; it’s covered in ash and some parts are scraped. A faint thread of webbing trails from his elbow. His eyes adjust- their calibration is audible, and it’s obvious the mask was just put on.>

 

PETER: So, everyone wants to know what the hell just went down. Honestly? So do I. But I’ve reviewed my suit footage of it, and from what I can tell, this is what happened.    
  


<The screen swaps to footage of a blue sky; the camera drops, nearly touching the pavement, before being caught and swung up to a higher point. It does a slow, almost lazy flip, and it is obvious that Spider-Man is swinging.>

 

PETER (voiceover): You can kinda tell I was just going about my business, trying to get to school, right? Your friendly everyday Spider-activities. And then-

 

<The screen starts shaking; Spider-Man pauses on a roof. The camera whips around to show a massive yellow robotic thing smashing its way across Musutafu.>

 

PETER:This dude just came out of freaking nowhere! So of course I was like, I can’t get involved, I’d get arrested, but then I was like, I  _ have  _ to get involved, or people will die. So-

 

<The camera jumps as Spidey starts swinging his way toward the villain. Explosions start to appear, and little flashes of powers being used.>   
  


PETER: So I get there, right, and-

 

<Spidey starts flying in dizzying circles around the enemy, darting in to kick out a robotic support or two every now and then. He dodges some attacks nimbly, and whips around to see a flash of red and purple..>   
  


PETER: Then, like, Mr. Barton and Mr. Wilson come out of freaking thin air, I guess? And they just-

 

<The mech collapses to the ground, with two distinctive figures on top. One holds a pair of katanas and the other a bow with no arrow nocked. The video freezes.>

 

PETER: They just took it out! With no trouble! Which, I mean- look. I knew they weren’t in New York City anymore, ‘cause we were worried they’d been kidnapped and found them on security footage leaving Laguardia, but, like. I didn’t think they were coming to Japan. And then- uh, I can’t show you the rest ‘cause they’ll probably kill me but they like, threatened me, like, “Oh no, you can’t be running around fighting anymore, hurr durr, you aren’t licensed and you’re not technically a Japanese citizen yet, hurr durr.” Also then some random dude came up and started talking in rapid-fire Japanese and uh it turns out Mr. Barton can speak hella Japanese and he just?? Picked me up and ran off? Which is so insanely weird because what the fudge,  _ Hawkeye,  _ I’m not that light. 

 

<The camera flips back to Spiderman, whose eyes are wide with what’s probably excitement.>

 

PETER: Anyway so yeah. If you’re wondering why the media is covered with  _ this  _ image-

 

<The camera flips to a scene of Hawkeye running while carrying a disgruntled-looking Spiderman by the back of his sweater.>   
  


PETER: It’s because all that happened! So  _ that’s  _ a thing. I guess. Anyway. This has been the real Spidey show. Me. Doing stuff. Why do I have like four million followers on my instagram? Who knows? All I do is repost Spiderman memes. Why do you follow me.

 

<The camera shuts off.>

  
  
  


[Chatroom: Idiot Vigilante Support Group]

 

Members: Queens, Brooklyn, Pool, Jones, Cage, Fisty, Devil, Hawk, Punisher, Winter, BetterHawk, KPage, Ferret, Micro, Fogs, Ned, MJ, Trish, Nursey, Widow

 

Queens: yall saw my new instagram post right?

 

KPage: The one where you ranted for like 3 minutes about Clint and Wade being there to support you and make sure you didn’t get arrested in a whole other country and get your identity released?

 

Queens: touche

 

Devil: I’m fine.

 

Devil: I’m really fine.

 

Devil: But dammit, I searched for them for  _ weeks. _ I dropkicked people off rooftops in order to get information on their whereabouts. I searched every abandoned warehouse.

 

Devil: Because they were tailing this idiot child.

 

Queens: hey

 

Queens: im not an idiot

 

Queens: or a child

 

Hawk: I wanted to make sure he was ok!!!!!

 

Hawk: The paparazzi kept trying to tail him and i kept having to scare them off with EMP arrows.

 

Queens: what

 

Queens: huh

 

Queens: i thought it was weird that nobody was like following me or shit

 

Pool: Yeah you can thank us for that

 

Queens: thansk

 

Queens: asshole

 

Devil: Language.

 

Pool: fuck off

 

Queens: fuck off

 

Punisher: fuck off

 

Hawk: fuck off

 

KPage: DD’s sitting on his couch right now staring at the ceiling and wondering why this is what his life has come to.

 

KPage: Congrats. You broke him.

 

Pool: finally

 

Queens: oh no does he need a hug

 

Devil: Don’t you dare give me one of your awful hell hugs.

 

Devil: You will break my ribs.

 

Queens: :(

 

Devil: My name’s Spiderman, and I use emoticons because the Devil doesn’t understand “colon parentheses close” instead of using an emoji that he’ll actually understand because I’m an asshole.

 

Queens: u cant tell me not to call you an asshole and then call me an asshole

 

Devil: Try me.

 

Queens: >:/

 

Hawk: skhdgjsghk

 

Queens: Fuck you.

 

Punisher: such language from the literal child

 

Punisher: also shut the fuck up some of us want to go to sleep

 

Queens: it’s like 4 pm

 

Punisher: thats three am here kid

 

Queens: oops sorry

 

Queens: also im not a kid!!!!!!!

 

Punisher: you are so small

 

Punisher: a child

 

Pool: a precious lil babby

 

Pool: if i wasnt probably 10000 percent unfit to ever be a dad ever and also a deranged idiot i would adopt you myself

 

Queens: im weirdly honored

 

Hawk: it is true he is a smol

 

Hawk: smoler than even @BetterHawk

 

Hawk: who is  _ asleep  _ right now, kate

 

BetterHawk: fuck you dad

 

Hawk: do you see me as a father figure, kate?

 

BetterHawk: what the fuck

 

BetterHawk: no

 

BetterHawk: im not finishing your stupid tv quote asshole

 

Queens: kate could murder me and id thank her

 

BetterHawk: i feel weirdly uncomfortable with this sentiment

 

BetterHawk: i imagine if your boyfriend wasn’t asleep right now he would be too

 

Spidey: maybe

 

Pool: ah the youths of today

 

Pool: such young carefree spirits

 

KPage: Spidey, if Kate somehow murdered you from all the way in Brooklyn, I’d actually murder her myself.

 

Queens: ……………..thansk???

 

Hawk: i literally know like 4 lesbians and they all are so fucking protective of spidey

 

Hawk: why are you like this

 

Spidey: are you asking me or the lesbian protectors i apparently have

 

Devil: What the fuck.

 

Brooklyn: most of my friends are lesbian and tbh theyre all so overprotective of queens

 

Brooklyn: like theres this one girl who knows my identity and is like “yea yr cool but the original spidey? who protects manhattan? hes so smol and needs protection”

 

Brooklyn: i’m pretty sure you’re older than her

 

Queens: why do i have lesbian guardians

 

Pool: you just have that ~aura,~ you get my drift?

 

Queens: not at all thanks

 

KPage: You’re just so small and squishy and I’m overcome with motherly nurturing feelings every time I’m around you?

 

Queens: …catch me crying in the club

 

KPage: @Widow @MJ @Nursey @Jones @Trish @BetterHawk back me up here

 

Widow: Am lesbian, can testify, same

 

Nursey: I’m straight and have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about

 

Jones: I’m bi and I hate everything

 

Jones: Except Queens. Brooklyn’s okay too tbh

 

Queens: :D

 

Brooklyn: :D

 

Jones: Never let me say that again.

 

MJ: I’m lesbian and I know both in real life. Both are adorable and need protection 100%. Keep it up.

 

Trish: I’m whatever the fuck and yeah, I get you, Page

 

BetterHawk: aqready bavked you u[

 

BetterHawk: ehat do tou me do unback you up snd then reback up

 

MJ: That was sound logic delivered in the worst grammar I’ve ever read.

 

Devil: What the fuck was that.

 

Devil: My ears are bleeding, Kate.

 

BetterHawk: sry

 

KPage: He’s turned his phone off and is face down in the couch cushions.

 

KPage: I think Kate won this round

 

BetterHawk: h a h

 

Brooklyn: you are a mythic bitch

  
  
  


_ So Barton and Wilson went after the kid. Why am I not surprised -You know who I am _

 

_ >Tony this is not a website for you -LC _

 

_ >>Fuck off Cage -TS _

 

_ >>>I’m kicking him don’t worry -SM _

 

_ >>>>I trusted you kid. And you betrayed me -TS _

 

_ >>>>>Sorry Mr. Stark, necessary evil :,( -SM _

 

_ >>Yeah, we did. Now fuck off the author only put this in here because they needed filler  -DP _

 

_ >>>what does that even mean -BS _

 

_ >>>>Ignore him. I have no idea what goes through his head. -JJ _

 

_ >>>We were worried about the kid’s safety. I don’t regret it. -H♂️ _

 

_ >>>>i can handle myself -SM _

 

_ >>>>>We know, kid. But keep yourself safe for us, okay? -FC _

 

_ >>>>>>Why is the punisher so cute with kids???? -JJ _

 

_ >>>>>>>Ignore my last comment I drank idiot whiskey this morning -JJ _

 

_ >>>>>>>>mood -SM _

  
  
  


_ Wait can we talk about what DP said earlier about us being in some kind of book because thats trippy as fuck -BSM _

 

_ >I told you to ignore him -JJ _

 

_ >>but i dont want to be in a book, if i was in a book id probably die -BSM _

 

_ >>>youre a protagonist you cant die -DP _

 

_ >>>>I thought I was a protagonist until I met you guys -BSM _

 

_ >>>>>no ur the best fucking protagonist -SM _

 

_ >>>>>>language -LC _

 

_ >>>>>>>let spidey say the fuck word -DP _

 

_ >>>>>>>> fuck -SM _


	17. lessons in law

“Noo, May, I don’t need- no-  _ stop. _ ”

 

May stopped trying to wrestle the uniform over his head. “But it’s nearly time for another school event. The U.A. Sports Festival is in a month or so, and you want to make it look like the uniform’s been broken in!”

 

“I’m not gonna wear the uniform,” Peter mumbled. 

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not gonna wear the uniform,” he said, more audibly. “It- I can’t maneuver in it, and it doesn’t have space for my spinnerets.”

 

“Peter. At least wear the jacket.” 

 

“On the day of, maybe,” Peter conceded, “but I’m gonna take it off halfway through.” 

 

The truth was, if he moved his arms too much- for instance, to swing around- he would probably rip the jacket. It wasn’t really equipped for the flexibility that came with his enhanced mobility, and he didn’t want to rip the arms off. Especially because then he’d have to buy a whole new one, and that was expensive, yo. And that was just the jacket. The pants were even tighter and more restrictive, and the shirt? He could barely raise his arms in the shirt. Unless he got really good at tailoring really fast, there was no way.

 

“Peter.” May’s voice was reproachful, and he dropped his gaze in guilt. He didn’t want to disappoint them… but they  _ were  _ pretty low on money.

 

“May, you  _ know  _ I can’t move in it.” He pulled a hoodie on, and layered a pair of older skinny jeans on top. They were the kind that were closer to sweatpants than jeans, so they’d do fine.

 

“I’m sure if you asked for it, they’d make you a uniform that fit you right.”

 

“Yeah, and they’d charge us fifty bucks!” He slipped the mask on. “I gotta go, May. Love you.”

 

He didn’t wait for a response. Just slung his bag over one shoulder and used his other arm to swing to school. 

 

\------

 

“What did you get for question 9?” Midoriya asked, leaning over towards Peter after the English test. “I’ve been having a hard time with this book.” 

 

Peter glanced at his own dog-eared, ratty Romeo and Juliet. “Uh, the one about Mercutio’s dream?”   
  
“Yeah. Oh, was that Mercutio? Aww…” Midoriya let his head drop onto the desk with a  _ thunk. _

 

“Hey, don’t feel bad!” Uraraka chimed in. “I’m pretty sure I failed the whole test.”   
  


“It’s  _ really  _ not a good way to teach you guys English,” Peter said, flipping through the pages. “Nobody’s used this style of English since the 1600s.”

 

“So everything they’re teaching us is useless!” Bakugo protested, banging his hand on the table.

 

Across the room, Todoroki cocked his head. “No, not everything. This is a school made to teach students about their Quirks, not about things that might one day be useful to us in a real job market. What they teach you about Quirks is useful. However, if you don’t become a Hero here, you’ll be pretty far behind in secondary education.”

 

The room quieted, subdued. “I bet Spidey could teach us English,” Midoriya piped up after a moment.

 

“What? No no no, I- I can’t teach. I’m a kid.”

 

“You went to a science and tech school in New York, right? You must be really smart,” Iida pointed out. His head was tilted to the side, marking it a question.

 

“I- yeah, I was the top of my class, and I keep on top of my studies, but that- but that doesn’t mean anything. Being able to study hard doesn’t make me a good teacher,” he spluttered. He was  _ entirely  _ unqualified and, to be frank, not wholly comfortable teaching the class. No way could he teach English to nineteen other fifteen-year-olds!

 

“Then how about this,” Yaoyorozu said. “What if you taught us extra English for a week during lunch, and helped us with our homework so that we can pass the class? In return, we can teach you Japanese- your robot can’t get you everywhere. We’ll take a pretest- that can be the one we just took- and then the test we take on Act Two will be our test. To be fair, Spidey will take two tests, also, without his robot. Both in Japanese.”

 

“That sounds scientific! I think this is a good idea,” Iida declared.

 

Slowly, people around the room nodded their assent.

 

“Then we’ll meet for study group starting today at lunch,” Yaoyorozu continued. “Spidey, you don’t have to make lesson plans or anything, just teach us what you think we need to know. Real English, the kind people use in America.”

 

“Okay,” Peter sighed. “Okay, I’m on board. But don’t blame me if I’m a really bad teacher!”

 

“You won’t be,” Hanta said. “I have a feeling you’ll be pretty good at it, actually.”

 

\-----

 

“Okay! Your first lesson will be in the future tense,” Peter said, sitting down at the table with his lunch tray. “It’s pretty simple, overall. All you have to do is put the word  _ will  _ in front of the verb. Like this.” He pulled his mask halfway up. “I will run. I will do my homework. I will jump.”   
  


“I will study,” Uraraka picked up in Japanese-accented English. Her  _ will  _ came out closer to  _ wirr,  _ but it was definitely recognizable. “I will read.”

 

“I will fly,” Midoriya volunteered. “I will want.”

 

“Yeah,” Peter grinned, pulling the bottom half of the mask back down so that his words were translated. “Like that. Try and make longer sentences.”

 

“I will go at school,” Hanta said hesitatingly.

 

“Go to school,” Peter corrected.

 

“I will go  _ to  _ school,” he repeated dutifully.

 

“I will punch you,” Bakugo said, stabbing his carrots with more force than was strictly necessary. Peter had long since stopped being surprised that he had to incorporate violence into everything.

 

“You will not punch Spider-Man,” Todoroki said quietly, the first thing he’d said all lunch. 

 

“Your English is spectacular,” Peter said, pulling the mask back up and turning his head to face him. “Barely any accent. You’ve been learning for a while?”

 

“My dad says it’s necessary to be a good hero,” he nodded. “I’m trying to learn German and Spanish and Chinese, too.”

 

“Your dad sounds really smart,” Peter offered, then regretted it when Todoroki’s face dropped.  _ Dammit, Peter, you don’t know the kind of situation these guys have at home. _ “At least, about this subject.”

 

He wondered briefly if the big red mark across Todoroki’s face was a birthmark or a scar. Then he kicked himself for jumping to conclusions. 

 

Solving the awkward silence, Midoriya volunteered, “I will learn more English!”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Peter smiled, even though the others couldn’t see it under the mask.

 

\-----

 

The test at the end of the week came and went. And dammit, they did  _ well. _ Even Peter did better on it, which was shocking, because he was learning a whole new writing system. 

 

“They will go to the beach,” Peter said that afternoon at lunch, because the other kids were having trouble with prepositions. “You use  _ to  _ when you’re going somewhere.”

 

“Like going  _ to  _ the doctor?” Midoriya asked. He was a quick study, and Peter grinned and nodded. 

 

“Yeah, like that! You can also say it if you’re going to someone’s house- for example, I am going to Jane’s house.” He paused and thought for a second. “Typically, an American would drop the word  _ house,  _ and use a contraction instead. As in, I’m going to Jane’s.”   
  


“I’m,” Uraraka repeated slowly. “Like, I am, but together?”

 

“Yeah. For example, I’m teaching you English.” He had stopped pulling the mask up; Karen was getting intuitive enough that she could figure out what he wanted and didn’t want to be translated. Peter made a mental note to thank Mr. Stark soon.

 

“I’m learning English,” Kaminari said, cottoning on. Peter smiled; he knew his eyes would look happy-squinty to the other students, so it actually did matter. 

 

“I’m happy?” Hagakure tried. “Does that work?”

 

“Yeah!” Peter said. “You can also use it for nouns, like: I am a spider.”

 

“Are you?” Asui asked. “I’ve only seen the lower half of your face, but you don’t look like a spider.”

 

“My DNA has spider genes spliced in,” Peter explained. “It’s a weird mutation Quirk.”

 

“Huh. That’s not how mine worked, I don’t think,” Iida said, cocking his head. 

 

“It, uh, wasn’t the Quirk I was born with.” He didn’t really want to explain; it wasn’t a long story, but one he didn’t really understand, and one that reminded him too much of his parents.

 

“What was your original Quirk, then? And how did you get this one?” Ashido asked, because apparently, Peter couldn’t have nice things like not reliving painful memories.

 

_ Keep it short and sweet. _ “My original Quirk let me read DNA; it was called Karyotype. I got this one- Webslinger- because of a radioactive spider bite, and lost Karyotype.”

 

“Cool!” Thankfully, she didn’t press further, and Peter bit back a sigh of relief. “I’m happy you telled me.”

 

“Actually, tell is weird- in the past tense, it would be  _ told, _ instead of  _ telled. _ As in, they told me.”

 

“They told me,” Yaoyorozu said slowly.

 

“They told me,” a few others parroted. 

 

\-----

“They told me!” 

 

Peter had never seen Matt this agitated before, pacing the room, hands white knuckles on the hem of his shirt. 

 

“They told me,” he repeated with no small amount of indignance, “they needed legal representation.”

 

“So you flew to  _ Japan? _ Mr. Murdock, you’re not certified to practice in Japan!” Peter protested. He was sitting at the table in Matt’s hotel room in the next town over; May had already been briefed on the situation. “Aren’t they, like, Avengers? Can’t they just get themselves a Japanese lawyer? Someone who  _ knows the laws  _ and can read Japanese? Or Japanese braille?  _ Is  _ there a Japanese braille?”

 

Matt had a pained look on his face; for all that the dark glasses hid his upper face, Peter was surprised that they only intensified the amount of emotion he was showing. “Yes, they’re Avengers. Yes, they can get themselves a Japanese lawyer, but I’m apparently the leading attorney on cases that have to do with vigilantism-  _ stop laughing, Peter.  _ I know the laws. I read up about them last night. And yes, there is Japanese Braille, which I am currently learning. I have about half the letters down, but I’m still slow at it, which is why I need your help.”

 

“I’m not a paralegal, Mr. Murdock!” Peter protested. 

 

“You don’t have to yell. It’s a small room.”

 

“I am not a paralegal!” he repeated. “I am a fifteen-year-old kid!”

 

“You wouldn’t be a proper paralegal. You wouldn’t be helping me out with anything major. Just recording yourself reading the documents.”

 

Peter sighed and dropped his head onto the table. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

 

“You didn’t give me the time?” Matt offered.

 

“Okay. Okay, fine, say I read the documents to you. Were you planning on being licensed in Japan? Because you haven’t gone to law school in Japan.”

 

Matt paused. “I hadn’t gotten that far. I was hoping to operate off hope and, at worst, offer legal counsel instead of advice.”

 

“Why is the fifteen-year-old the adult in this scenario, instead of the forty-three-year-old?” Peter asked. It was rhetorical, but he wished there was a good answer anyway. 

 

Matt burst into raucous laughter. “You’re off by a decade there, buddy, and I’m not in my fifties.”

 

Peter groaned. “That is  _ so _ not the point.” He picked up his Starkphone and asked it, “FRIDAY, please call Foggy Nelson.”   
  


“No, don’t call Foggy-”

 

_ “Sure thing, Mr. Parker.” _

 

Matt groaned as the concerned voice of Foggy filled the room. “Peter? Everything okay, buddy?”

 

“So-” Peter started.

 

“Nope, don’t tell me. Matt’s not in the office yet and you’re not calling for no reason, so I can only assume you’re with Matt or Matt is with you, and there haven’t been any spottings of Spidey in NYC recently, which means-”

 

“Which means Mr. Murdock decided to provide legal representation to Hawkeye and Deadpool, who are both in Japan,” Peter sighed.

 

“In my defense-” Matt started.

 

“No,” Foggy and Peter said, simultaneously, and Matt shrank back. Foggy continued. “Matt, where the hell did you even get tickets to Japan?” 

 

“Uh-” The pause was just long enough for Peter to start having terrifying images of a person clad in red devil horns clinging to the wing of a plane. Thankfully, Matt finished, “-They paid for it.”

 

Foggy exhaled. “They only paid for one-way, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Matt said. Peter blinked, and cocked his head.

 

“So you can’t get tickets back, because you don’t have any money, so you basically have to stay and get them bailed?”   
  


“Yeah,” Matt said, and Foggy groaned.

 

“Matt, buddy- Peter, cover your ears-  _ what the fuck?” _

 

“ _ Language,”  _ Matt scolded. “Justified language, but there is a  _ minor  _ in the room, Foggy!”

 

“That’s why I told him to cover his ears!” 

 

Peter felt rather left out. “Uh, I didn’t cover my ears. And I’m fifteen, I can say fuck, Mr. Murdock.”

 

Matt looked like he was about to have a very Catholic aneurysm. “You are a child! You use people’s last names! You only beat Fisk twice! You are a small baby!”

 

Foggy cleared his throat from the phone. “Objection, bad measurement of a person’s maturity.”

 

“Overruled,” Matt said. “I’m stuck in Japan, for now, at least. Foggy, I hate to ask, but could you contact Tony Stark? We know each other- he knows who I am, don’t worry- and explain the situation.”

 

Foggy was silent for a second. Then the phone exploded with so much noise Peter had to catch it before it fell. “ **_YOU KNOW TONY STARK!??!?!”_ **

 

“Uh--”

 

“ _ AND YOU DIDN’T FUCKING  _ **_TELL_ ** _ ME!?” _

 

“Foggy-”

 

“MATTHEW MICHAEL MURDOCK I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD-”

 

“Mr. Nelson,” Peter broke in, “if you want his autograph I can get it for you, but can we, like, focus? Mr. Murdock, where are you planning to stay? I doubt you can get the hotel room forever, and you’ll run out of money at some point.”

 

Foggy spoke up. “Oh my God, Matt, you’re gonna be homeless.”

 

Peter exhaled. “You’re not gonna be homeless. I’ll talk to my aunt, okay? I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Murdock.”   
  


“Thanks, kid,” Foggy said.

 

“Is that okay? I mean, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Matt had his stupid puppy-dog face on.

 

“Matt, do you have your stupid puppy-dog, Catholic guilt face on?” 

 

“...No.”

 

“You are the worst liar in the world. Let the kid at least talk to his aunt, okay?”   
  


“...Okay.”

  
  


\------

 

“No,” May insisted. “Absolutely not.”   
  


“But-”

 

“He is a dangerous vigilante, Peter!”

 

“He’s blind and a lawyer! He’s literally been training me not to get hurt for months!” Peter protested. 

 

“Peter.”

 

“Aunt May, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, and he doesn’t speak Japanese.”

 

She paused, so Peter pushed harder. “He wouldn’t even be able to read the eviction notice, May,  _ please. _ ”

 

“If he causes  _ any  _ property damage at all he’s paying for it,” May relented. “When do we pick him up?”

 

“Yess!”

 

PP: mission accomplished

 

MM: Thank you, Peter!

 

FN: how did you do it?

 

PP: i pointed out that he cant even speak japanese & hes broke & blind & wouldnt even be able to read an eviction notice

 

MM: I can speak Japanese.

 

FN: you can?

 

PP: w h at 

 

PP: wild

 

MM: Yeah. I, uh, had a Japanese teacher.

 

FN: u were at a catholic school in hk, who would speak japanese

 

FN: oh

 

FN: OH   
  


FN:  _ that  _ teacher

 

PP: im missing smth

 

FN: dont worry about it kid

 

MM: It’s probably better that you don’t know.

 

MM: Where do you live, by the way? I’ll come over.

 

PP: no

 

PP: japan is very different from america ur gonna get yr ass kicked by a pro hero if u go running around in yr suit

 

MM: Parentheses open colon parentheses open.

 

PP: ????????

  
PP: what does that mean

  
  
MM: It’s a sad devil face.

 

PP: (:(

 

PP: it looks like an ice cream sandwich gone wrong

 

FN: here you go buddy

 

FN: )[]C

 

FN: it looks like your suit

 

PP: 👿

 

MM: Thank you both. How do I get to your place, Peter?

 

PP: …….working on it

  
  


\-----

 

“THIS IS HORRIFYING, PUT ME DOWN,” Matt yelled over the sound of rushing wind.

 

“You’re going to pull my shoulders off!” Peter hollered back. “Calm down and stop pulling.”   
  


“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,” Matt replied eloquently.

 

Peter winced; honestly, did Matt not remember that Peter had super hearing too? He kept swinging, trying to calculate his swings to include Matt’s body weight and the increased drag. Meanwhile, Matt clung to his back like a terrified koala, fingers digging into the suit.  _ I hope they don’t leave stretch marks or rip the fabric. _

 

“THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA,” Matt screeched.

 

“Calm down, you’re fine, you’re fine, your stuff is already at the apartment and then you can sit down with whatever you’ve brought and, uh, and relax!” Peter tried. He was certain it wasn’t particularly reassuring, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

 

“No- Peter, you don’t understAAAAAAAAAAND!” They dropped another time before Peter caught them with a rope of web. “I can- hOLY SHIT- feel every tiny little chANGE IN-” He made a strangled noise before continuing. “-in gravitational pRESSURE PETER NO NO AAAAAAA-”

 

“Okay calm down calm down we’re here!” Peter said desperately, letting go of the web and clinging to the brick exterior of their apartment. “See, we’re here, we’re fine!”

 

Matt didn’t move. “Uh, Mr. Murdock, are you going to get off or-?”

 

The window next to them opened. “Spidey!”  _ Oh great, Midoriya probably thinks I’m kidnapping a blind man.  _ “Who’s that?”   
  


“This is-” Peter started, then realized they hadn’t come up with a cover story. He thought quickly. “-My, uh, boss from America.”   
  


“Whoa, you have a job in America?”   
  


“He’s supposed to be my paralegal, but if he keeps  _ swinging me places,  _ I’m going to have to  _ fire  _ him,” Matt said in Japanese. It was good Japanese, too; Karen didn’t stumble in translation, which meant it didn’t even have an American accent. “Can I ask who you are?”   
  


“I’m Spidey’s friend from school! I’m also his neighbor,” Midoriya said brightly. “Your Japanese is really good!”

 

“Thanks,” Matt said, but Peter could hear the tightness in his tone. 

 

Luckily, they didn’t have to continue the conversation, because someone called from inside. Peter’s sharp hearing picked up some rapid Japanese- “Something something -to dinner, please!”

 

“Oh, my mom is calling,” Midoriya exclaimed. “I gotta go, bye!”   
  


“Bye, Midoriya!” Peter said.

 

“Bye, Spidey, good luck with work! Bye, Spidey’s boss!”

 

As the window closed, Matt cautiously scooted through Peter’s window. Peter mentally cheered.  _ Finally getting somewhere! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating in less than 10 days, with a long chapter??? Shocking, I know.


	18. a ninja!!!!

“MATT,” Peter groaned for what felt like the 121st time that night.

 

“No- if I just get enough momentum-” 

 

“Matt, you are not doing backflips off the wall.”

 

“I can’t do anything!” he complained. “Peter, I gotta- I gotta work off this energy somehow.”

 

“Not by doing backflips,” Peter insisted. “We don’t have the money for a gym membership, Matt, can you- I don’t know, take this to the roof?”

 

He brightened visibly. “You have roof access?”

 

“Work off your energy by climbing the wall to the roof,” he said dryly. He still had  _ homework, _ for God’s sake, and honestly? Matt had gotten lucky that May was working a double shift at the shelter, so she couldn’t kick him out for leaving bootprints on the wall. Bootprints that  _ Peter  _ was gonna have to clean up.

 

Dammit. 

 

“I could try that,” Matt said, sounding intrigued. He was doing the Thing again, where he tried to get his eyes to focus on a person to demonstrate politeness and it just didn’t work. He was currently staring at Peter’s kneecaps so intently that he worried Matt was just gonna knock his legs out from under him. Or Peter was gonna end the night with his legs on backward. Neither situation was ideal.

 

“Fantastic,” Peter said, pulling out some wipes (scented ones, because that was the quickest way to get Matt out of there real quick.) “Bye.”

 

The lawyer didn’t need telling twice; in a flash, he had opened the window-  _ thanks for saving us the window bill at least- _ and hurled himself out.

 

Peter left the window open and set to work scrubbing the wall of bootprints. 

 

\------

 

He used his free time (okay, so he didn’t have  _ that  _ much homework, sue him) to do some research on the people who had jumped him at the USJ. To his knowledge, they were still on the loose, which was...unnerving. They could do a  _ lot  _ of damage. 

 

Ned- literally the best boyfriend in the world, thank you very much- got him into the secure government records of registered Quirk users. Peter got Karen downloaded to his computer, and then contacted the  _ real  _ Karen with a request for her help as an investigator- he might have sent one to Jessica Jones, too, with an addendum of  _ but that’s only if you want to, if you don’t want to or if it’s too hard, you don’t have to. _

 

The section reading  _ if it’s too hard  _ was the best idea he’d had in weeks.

 

Two hours later and she had a response for him.

 

_ From: Jessica Jones (aliasinvest@gmai.com) _

_ To: Spider-Man ( _ [ _ theresahyphen@gmail.com _ ](mailto:theresahyphen@gmail.com) _ ) _

 

_ asshole. you knew i couldn’t turn that down. _

 

_ you owe me a beer. once you’re like old enough to drink of course _

 

_ attachment:spideysass.jpg _

 

With some trepidation (was that labeled Spidey’s Ass or Spidey-Sass? He was afraid to find out) he opened the attachment to find a police report from a week ago, about a man who had short-circuited an entire building before stealing a lot- a  _ lot- _ of weapons and escaping. Reports said he had scar material around his eyes.

 

_ Bingo. _ That was definitely Electro- and where one was, the rest of the gang would be. 

 

Then Matt came back downstairs, looking worn out but pleased and much more mature. He informed Peter that it was definitely past his bedtime and that he had to go to bed (which was now in the living room, because adults got their own rooms for privacy purposes and Matt wouldn’t see anything anyway.) Peter grumbled, but clambered into the web he’d put up in the corner (no, of course he wasn’t gonna sleep on that couch, it was uncomfortable as hell) and complied.

 

\-----

 

Peter woke the next morning feeling… decidedly not-refreshed.

 

“Matt,” he said in his most accusatory tone over breakfast. “That was the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

 

“What?” Matt said innocently.

 

May squinted. “Did something happen?”

 

“Matt was talking with Wade- Deadpool- last night in his room and he thought I couldn’t hear."

 

“ _ Oh?”  _ Her voice took on a pointed tone.

 

“It’s only fair-”

 

“Matt is still trying to take on the case,” Peter explained. “Or at least provide legal counseling to Wade.”

 

Matt sighed. “I’m trying to get him extradited to the US so that he has a chance of getting legal representation. For someone who can’t die and presumably will never die, he has spent a surprisingly small amount of time learning things- like  _ useful other languages, _ like  _ Japanese- _ and instead spends his time making unholy amounts of pancakes and shooting other people.”

 

“And I don’t want to see our team fall apart because Wade set his hopes too high and Matt has a problem with disappointing people.”

 

“I do not,” Matt protested.

 

“Yes you-”

 

“Boys,” May said firmly, and they both shut up. There was silence for a moment as they both ate their eggs, then she looked up. “Why don’t you just take a day off, Peter? Talk to Wade and to Matt, try and keep your team together.”

 

“They don’t really do mental health days at UA,” Peter pointed out. “The student handbook says you gotta have a note signed by a licensed doctor.”

 

“I’m a nurse,” May said.

 

“Not a practicing one,” Matt said. “But you could forge one.”

 

“No,” both Parkers said at the same time.

 

“You’re a lawyer, why would you condone that?” Peter added, as an afterthought. And yeah, sure, Matt was a vigilante who did vigilante things, like, regularly, but.

 

Matt shrugged. “Isn’t there any other way?”

 

“Well- you can have someone over 21 come in and vouch for you,” Peter said slowly. “But May’s gotta work if we want to eat, and you… don’t really do schools.”

 

“I do schools,” Matt said. “I do schools really well, actually, I’m a lawyer, trust me.”

 

\------

 

“I’m a  _ lawyer, _ ” Matt protested in Japanese. “ A  _ blind lawyer.  _ How the hell could I be Daredevil?” 

 

“Enhanced senses, probably,” Principal Nedzu replied, quick-fire. 

 

Matt stood in the office, dumbstruck. Peter sat behind him on the couch, watching the world fall to pieces, because  _ what the fuck.  _ He knew the Principal was smart- calculating and cunning, and had no issue making objective decisions based on his knowledge even if it seemed unfair. Usually these decisions worked out in the long run.

 

“And, as principal, I’m afraid I cannot allow vigilantes in my school,” he added, smile still fixed on his face.

 

Matt made a noise of helpless disbelief, throwing his hands in Peter’s general direction as Peter sputtered, “Wait, Principal, I worked as a vigilante for  _ years! _ ”

 

“And you’re currently trying to fix that,” Nedzu said, “which is admirable. However, being a junior high, it is  _ extremely  _ unlikely that Mr. Murdock is coming here in an attempt to learn.”

 

“Wha- bu-” Peter protested. It was futile, he knew, but.

 

“If you have another adult contact you’d like to ask instead, that would be perfectly acceptable,” Nedzu said. Peter consciously kept himself from gritting his teeth.

 

“My aunt has to  _ work,  _ Principal, she can’t just come in during homeroom to pull me out of school.”

 

“Well then, I see no problem,” he said cheerily, “because you would be home alone and that’s not safe for a child.”

 

Matt’s hands were fists by his side, but Peter was confident he wasn’t going to punch anything. Or at least, he was confident until Nedzu added, “And may I remind you that truancy and/or trespassing is illegal, and that any illegal acts committed while in Japan will certainly have a detrimental effect on your efforts to defend the criminal Deadpool. That is, any  _ additional  _ illegal acts, apart from your failure to register your Quirks with the government.”

 

“Quirks?” Matt forced a laugh as his face did something very complicated. This was just getting painful to watch. “Surely you know that people can’t have more than one Quirk. They just conglomerate into one Quirk.”

 

“However,” Nedzu said with his  _ stupid fucking pleasant grin still on his face what the fuck, _ “there are events that can trigger what were previously thought of as superpowers, but are now known to be Quirks. Those sometimes add onto other, preexisting Quirks, like they did with you, Mr. Murdock, and sometimes wipe out the previous Quirk, like they did with you, Mr. Parker.”   
  


Peter was  _ furious. _ He never talked about that; Matt whipped around to face him. “I thought you said-”

 

“ _ Principal, _ ” Peter hissed, “I’d appreciate it if you stopped revealing secrets about me.”

 

“And I’d appreciate it if you both stopped threatening me, but here we are,” the little shit said happily.

 

_ Fucker. _

 

\------

 

[POST TRANSCRIPT:  _ instagram.archives12091220459@realspiderman _ : 11/12/19 19:01:38]

<There is an image of Spider-Man in a small apartment, taking a selfie using the classic Spider-Man hand pose, with Daredevil asleep on the couch behind him covered in what appears to be a warm, fluffy blanket. He is visibly drooling. The caption reads: “Daredevil needs breaks every once in a while, too. Don’t worry, New York- your streets are still safe! Blindspot’s covering his territory, and I got Hawkeye to cover mine and Deadpool’s :)>

 

Comments:

 

**therealtonystark✔**

What have I told you about talking to dangerous vigilantes, kid?

 

**View 214 more v**

 

**realspiderman✔**

@therealtonystark “dangerous” lmao hes asleep on a couch with the fluffiest blanket i own

 

**yourrentoo**

@therealtonystark look at him!!! he couldnt hurt a fly

 

**doctordoomsworstnightmare**

@therealtonystark @yourrentoo im a nurse at mgh and uh he definitely can hurt flies. also people. lots of people. (not that im upset about it, he saved my boyfriend a bit ago)

 

**monsterfxccer1999**

@therealtonystark wow ur such a dad

  
  
  


**imnotdaredevil**

Fuck off.

 

**View 110 more v**

 

**asgardianprincess**

@imnotdaredevil holy shit isnt that daredevil

 

**imnotdaredevil**

@imnotdaredevil @asgardianprincess And what if I am?

**aceofcards**

@imnotdaredevil @asgardianprincess hsgjdhgkdshgs daredevil why arent u verified

 

**imnotdaredevil**

@imnotdaredevil @aceofcards Because Instagram refuses to verify “dangerous vigilantes.” 

 

**aceofcards**

@imnotdaredevil the amount of shade against @therealtonystark in this comment is UNREAL and i am living for it

  
  


**sciencegal730**

uh guys why the Fuck is daredevil in japan????

 

**View 54 more v**

 

**realspiderman✔**

@sciencegal730 classified! ;)

 

**sciencegal730**

@realspiderman that winky face has horrifying implications are u sleeping w daredevil? bc ur a kid and thats like Way Creepy

 

**realspiderman✔**

@sciencegal730 oh god no ew ew ew like no offense to daredevil ofc but that makes me want to Wash My Mouth Out With Bleach Just Thinking Abt It,,, like hes v attractive under the mask but jfc NO

 

**theguyinthechair✔**

@realspiderman @sciencegal730 what the fuck why would you even think that lmao (but yeah hes cute under the mask. cute and taken)

 

**realspiderman✔**

@theguyinthechair DUDE _.  _ that was supposed to be a secret so his partner stops being KIDNAPPED. he gets kidnapped for his quirk a shitton anyway

 

**sciencegal730**

@realspiderman @theguyinthechair i feel like sometimes we forget yall actually live dangerous and slightly terrifying lives because yall were born with more powerful quirks than everyone else??? like just the matter-of-fact way yr talking abt dd’s boyfriend being kidnapped on the regular is. terrifying. (also daredevil’s queer? we been knew)

  
  
  
  


NL: fuck

 

NL: im so sorry i didnt mean to do it

 

MM: What?

 

MM: What’s happening, Ned?

 

FN: oh jesus

 

FN: uhhh

 

FN: so it’s actually. pretty bad but its ok!

 

FN: were not gonna sue u or anything like tht

 

NL: no i know

 

NL: but its super not cool i outed u like that. im so sorry

 

NL: it just. slipped out and i cant take it back

 

MM: What? What’s going on?

 

PP: oh god he doesnt know

 

PP: here

 

PP:  [ https://www.latlmes.com/nation/daredevil-outed-as-gay-by-instagram-user-1 ](https://www.latlmes.com/nation/daredevil-outed-as-gay-by-instagram-user-1)

 

MM: …

 

MM: Fuck.

 

NL: im so fucking sorry man

 

FN: tbf it couldve been worse

 

FN: at least they dont know who u r

 

FN: or who i am

 

MM: It’ll be okay in the long run, kid. 

 

MM: There might be an increase in criminal activity, though. 

 

_ Matt Murdock has added Samuel Chung to the chat. _

 

SC: whsts giing on

 

NL: i fucked up man

 

SC: who r u

 

PP: hes my boyf

 

SC: ah cool 

 

SC: ….hpw did u fuck uo

 

MM: He accidentally outed me on Instagram.

 

MM: Which might increase crime rates- especially homophobic ones- around Hell’s Kitchen.

 

FN: im in charge of the posts 4 dds insta i can handle sum media fallout

 

FN: but not like criminal fallout

 

SC: gpt it, more crimes. will look out

 

NL: i need to add u to the teen supers chat

 

SC: the what

 

SC: theres a twwn supers chat and im not indited

 

FN: indited

 

SC: fuck u im vison impared

 

MM: You haven’t turned on assistive controls?

 

SC: dont need em

 

SC: plus it kinds guves me aeay 2 bad guys if mt phone resds all my texts out lpud 

 

NL: two blind superheroes this is so cool

 

SC: im not blind

 

SC: i was blpnded fir a bit tho

 

SC: never reslly regenned all the wya

 

FN: i h8 dp’s whole “kill evry1” thing

 

FN: but im glad that fuckers dead

 

NL: badass!!!

 

SC: makes working @ night p hard :/

 

NL: still badass

 

PP: u know i could probably build u something 2 fix ur eyes

 

SC: idk man

 

SC: these ones r from like magic shit frpm the jand

 

PP: the hand?

 

SC: ya

 

PP: like,,, the evil ninja dudes that the avengers should really have intervened with ages ago?   
  


SC: ya

 

NL: ninjas???

 

FN: THOSE ASSHOLES?????????

 

FN: r u sure ur eye isn’t like, hijacked 2b a time bomb

 

SC: i rlly hopr not

 

NL: ninjas?????????????

 

NL: there are ninjas??????? in new york??????????

 

FN: dude matt’s a ninja

 

FN: keep up

 

NL: what the fuck is my life

 

MM: I’m not a ninja. 

 

FN: okok wait uve told me the whole story so

 

FN: correct me if im wrong

 

FN: an old japanese dude named stick shows up 

 

MM: Yes.

 

FN: teaches u to fite

 

MM: Yes.

 

FN: using traditional japanese methods

 

MM: Yes.

 

FN: and some methods from a weird tibetan place that no longer exists

 

MM: It still exists, and it’s another dimension, not Tibet.

 

FN: details

 

FN: also he added a fair bit of treating u like shit

 

MM: It was training, Foggy.

 

FN: not an xcuse weve been over this

 

MM: Mad face.

 

FN: anyway

 

FN: he ditches u but then l8r u fite alongside this chick w sai 

 

MM: Yes.

 

FN: and u both kno how to do hella acrobatics & stay unnoticed in the shadows

 

MM: Yes.

 

FN: and u fite ninjas

 

MM: Not ninjas. The Hand.

 

FN: ...led in part by a  japanese dude

 

MM: Yeah.

 

FN: who use katanas and literal longbows

 

MM: Yeah.

 

NL: wtf this is such a roller coaster

 

PP: shh

 

FN: to assassinate people & make a new gvmt

 

MM: Yes. But mostly to discover invincibility. They discovered it, actually.

 

FN: & yr telling us thats not some weird ninja yakuza cult

 

Of course, they were at home; May had called Nedzu to declare a mental health day. (Thank God.)

 

Which meant that from across the room, Peter was there to watch Matt pull his earbud out and stare at the ceiling. “Oh my God,” he said aloud, “I’m a part of a weird ninja yakuza cult.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, last wednesday: IM A MATURE ADULT IM GONNA UPDATE  
> me, saturday: IM A MATURE ADULT IM GONNA UPDATE  
> me, today: ....fuck
> 
> so yeah i know the chap sucks ENJOY


	19. the vigilante's guide to lowering your expectations about people killing you

For a while, things seemed… almost normal.

 

He was really learning Japanese now, albeit slowly. His classmates seemed to have warmed up to him after the whole incident at the USJ, even though-

 

“Spidey,” Kaminari laughed, “why won’t you show us your face? Or at least give us a name to work by?” 

 

They were taking a break in their Quirks Training class, where Kaminari had  _ maybe  _ discharged a little too much lightning and now everyone was sitting around uncomfortably. Since Peter’s suit could handle electricity now-  _ thanks, Electro-  _ he was charged (ha ha) with tackling Kaminari earlier, and now he was apparently going to bear the brunt of Kaminari’s voltage-drunk rambling.

 

“I mean,” the boy continued, oblivious to the tension- Peter noticed Todoroki and Bakugo exchanging glances- “it kinda shows you don’t trust us, right? Like, you’ve known us for like, three or four months, that should be enough!” 

 

Peter hesitated. “Kaminari, you remember when those villains attacked us at the USJ?”

 

“Oh yeah, and I was like boom boom and pow and  _ zap _ -”

 

“And a bunch of villains were there, specifically because  _ I  _ was there? Because I have villains that are specifically mad at me?”

 

“Yeah, that’s so cool, you’ve been a superhero for so long already you’ve got your own villains!”

 

“Uh-huh. Imagine if you’re filterless, like this, and someone who doesn’t know my identity asks for it?”

 

“Aaah. I’d never tell them your identity!” His voice sounded indignant, but unsure. “I- I wouldn’t.”   
  


Peter was saved from bringing him future disappointment when Jiro, without glancing up from the phone in her lap, said with a smirk, “No, you’d be too busy drooling all over the ground.”

 

Kaminari giggled again.

 

\------

 

“Mr. Murdock,” Peter asked when he got back to the apartment, “can you write me some NDA forms?”

 

Matt cocked his head- his way of indicating that he was paying attention, and Peter clarified. “I don’t mean, like, the kind in legalese that lawyers normally write, just a simple  _ I’ll do my best to keep your secret  _ type of thing.”

 

“Like an agreement?” Matt said, already sitting down at his computer. “Less legally binding, more  _ I’ll do my best? _ ”

 

“Yeah, like- like the thing you sign in school, like, I promise I’ll respect everyone. But for secret identities.”

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Matt asked. “Who are you planning on revealing yourself to?”

 

“I… my classmates. Not my teachers yet, because they’re adults and can sell data or stuff. But my friends-” he was surprised to find he really did think of them as friends- “I trust them, anyway, and… one raised a good point. None of them really have secret identities.It’s kind of making me more of an outcast- not only am I from America, but it’s like I’m trying to put myself on a higher pedestal than the rest of them, you know? Like,  _ ooh, look at me, I have proper villains and I’ve been vigilante-ing in America and you guys are all in training  _ or whatever.

 

“But I think it’ll be more effective if, instead of saying ‘I’m gonna tell you my secret identity but you  _ can’t tell anyone, _ ’ I could make sure I have that agreement in writing. Even if it’s not wholly formal.”

 

Matt hesitated, then sighed. “Do you want a copy in Japanese, too?”

 

“Yeah.” Peter paused.  _ Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t- _ “What made you change your mind?”

 

Matt paused from typing-  _ wow  _ he was efficient- to rub at his first two knuckles unconsciously. “I lied to my best friends for a while, too. But… ultimately, telling them was probably the best thing I ever did for our relationship. Plus, you need these industry contacts.”

 

Peter nodded. Then caught himself. “I just nodded. I’m gonna go take off the suit, can I change in your room?”

 

“Go ahead,” Matt said, his scarlet glasses still fixated on the screen.

 

Both their pockets buzzed, and as Peter slid the door to Matt’s room open, he said, “I’ll see what Mr. Wilson wants.” Matt murmured near-silent thanks as he pulled his phone out.

 

WW: maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatt

 

WW: matt im boooored

 

WW: matt come save me from this jail cell

 

PP: how the fuck did you get your phone back

 

WW: ooh watch the language lil man

 

PP: >:/

 

WW: i broke out

 

WW: and then i broke back in

 

PP: why would you break back in??????

 

WW: i like japan

 

WW: dont want to be banned from japan

 

PP: you dont want to be

 

PP: jabanned

 

WW: you are a horrible horrible person

 

PP: :<

 

WW: but srsly 

 

WW: im bored guys

 

PP:  _ Let’s Play Darts! _ __   
  


WW:  _ Let’s Play Darts! _ __   
  


WW: FUCK   
  


PP:  _ Let’s Play Darts! _ __   
  


WW:  _ Let’s Play Darts! _ __   
  


PP:  _ Let’s Play Darts! _ __   
  


WW:  _ Let’s Play Darts! _

 

WW: i let u win

 

PP: yeah sure

 

PP: keep telling yourself that

 

WW: peter you are a little shit

 

There was silence for a bit on the group chat- Peter assumed Wade had found something else to occupy himself, so he sat on his couch-bed-thing, now in comfortable jeans and a hoodie, and did homework until their phones buzzed again. Matt let out an audible sigh and dropped his head onto the computer keyboard; his earbud was already in the computer, and he went to plug it into his phone instead. Peter pulled his phone back out.

 

WW: wait guys

 

WW: im wade winston wilson

 

WW: and matt’s matthew michael maurice murdock

 

Peter could hear Matt grumbling from across the room before hearing- and then reading- Matt’s dictated message.

 

MM: Confirmation names don’t count as names.

 

WW: sacrilege

 

PP: anyway!!! mr wilson what were you saying

 

WW: and peter’s peter parker

 

WW: if we really want the triple threat you can be precious peter parker

 

PP: ew

 

WW: anyway

 

WW: why did we name ourselves team red instead of the awesome alliteration association

 

PP: because we all wear red and the triple a would not only make us sound like batteries

 

PP: but also would make us explain it to other people which would be Supremely Difficult to do without giving away secret identities

 

WW: speaking of which

 

WW: whats this i hear about a child giving away his secret identity to a bunch of other children

 

PP: how the fuck did you hear about it

 

PP: i said it like 14 minutes ago

 

WW: a good magician never reveals his tricks

 

MM: Did you hack his phone microphone, Wade?

 

WW: ANYWAY

 

WW: u shouldnt

 

PP: why not

 

WW: theyll betray you kiddo

 

WW: trust me

 

WW: it always. always. always. happens

 

MM: Uh, my identity is out to a fair few people, including some of my enemies- notably Fisk- and literally nobody has leaked it yet.

 

PP: mr murdock i love you

 

PP: and not to play anti-devils advocate

 

MM: Tush ay.

 

PP: but the reason it hasnt been leaked is because everyone already knows it

 

WW: tush ay

 

MM: Did my screen reader misspell something again?

 

PP: dont worry about it

 

MM: Angry face emoji. 

  
  


Peter snickered. Across the room, Matt made a face at his phone, set it down on the table, and plugged his earbud back into his computer. He turned back to work.

 

“What are you working on?” Peter said. He shifted around so his upper body was hanging off the couch bed, hanging from his knees so his hair- and the hood of the hoodie- brushed the floor.

 

“Trying to finish this extradition request,” Matt explained. “JAWS- the software that reads my stuff- is normally pretty reliable, but getting its software to read Japanese is… trying.”

 

Peter blinked. “I can help. I can make you a program for that, I think.”

 

“Really?” Matt looked interested now, cocking his head towards Peter. It was a gesture Peter recognized as Matt’s  _ I’m-looking-at-you _ ; it displayed actual interest, instead of just looking at Peter, which would be closer to polite interest. “You can do that?”

 

“Sure,” Peter said. “I can probably use GetHub to grab some base code, and then just fix it up so it reads out any language, no matter what it is.”

 

Matt’s eyes were still mostly hidden behind deep scarlet glasses, but Peter noticed them light up anyway. “I wouldn’t want to take up your time,” he said instead.

 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t. I’m not really working on anything right now, anyway. And it gives me an excuse to talk to my boyfriend.”

 

Matt laughed, then turned back to his computer. Peter figured that was as close to permission as he was gonna get- not that he needed permission, of course, but. He opened his computer and found a new email waiting in his inbox, instead.

 

_ Well. Huh. _ He sent a message to Ned first, though-  _ “babe!!! the light of my life!!!! i have a new project concept for u if ur down?? _ ”

 

Then he checked his email, and whoop, there went his mood.

 

_ From: anonymous (chitosantalker@gmai.com) _

_ To: Spider-Man ( _ [ _ theresahyphen@gmail.com _ ](mailto:theresahyphen@gmail.com) _ ) _

 

_ Peter Parker. _

 

_ I need your help. _

_   
_ _ Report to these coordinates at 0230 tomorrow. _

 

_ Ask Matthew. He knows. _

 

_ -E _

 

Attached was a set of coordinates. Plugging them into Google Maps revealed an abandoned warehouse-  _ Jesus, Japan has them too? _ \- by the water. Musutafu was, after all, a port city, so he couldn’t say he was surprised. Still, his heart dropped into his stomach. Someone knew who he  _ was. _ Where he  _ lived. _ They knew  _ Matt, _ and claimed Matt knew them.

 

“Mr. Murdock,” he said aloud. “I need your help.”

 

Almost immediately Matt appeared in the doorway of the living room- huh, he hadn’t realized he’d left. “Peter? Your heart rate just spiked. What’s going on?”

 

Peter read the email aloud, watching Matt’s face intently as it went through complicated changes in the blink of an eye, settling on  _ outraged  _ by the time he read the signature out. Then, immediately- Peter couldn’t catch all the minute changes, but he caught a  _ devastated  _ thinning of the lips, watched as  _ disbelief  _ twisted his eyebrows, saw the flash of  _ terrified  _ in his eyes, before settling on a schooled neutral expression for all of three seconds. Then he dropped it, and leaned heavily against the wall before slumping to the floor, putting his head in his hands.

 

He was mumbling something- Peter only caught a little bit of it, but it was enough to be recognized as something distinctly Catholic, which wasn’t entirely unsurprising, because Matt. Something about blessing the dead. 

 

_ The dead _ ?

 

“Matt, who is E?” he asked cautiously. Matt licked his lips nervously and pressed them together before taking a deep breath.

 

“H- her- her name is, uh. Her- her name is, uh, Elektra. Elektra Natchios.”

 

A sentence delivered with weight. Peter could tell that to someone else- maybe someone older, with more experience- the name would crackle with lightning, or at least it would  _ mean  _ something. But he didn’t know. “Uh, who?”

 

“She’s. She was.”

 

Peter waited a solid ten seconds before Matt could actually talk, which did nothing to ease his nervousness. Matt was  _ always  _ eloquent, but the stuttering and the inability to find the words? That was  _ completely  _ out of character.

 

“She and, uh, she and I were, uh. We were together throughout, um, through a lot of, uh, my, uh, freshman year of, um. Of law school. We broke up when, uh. When she, uh. She tried, she- she tried to, uh, get me to. To kill someone.”

 

“Jesus,” Peter breathed. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

 

“Uh, and. Uh.”  _ Oh god, there’s more involved?  _ “She, uh, she, sh-she, uh, she turned out to be. Um. Some- someone, someone from, uh. The guy, the guy who- who trained me. He sent her to, uh, to k- to kill me.”

 

“Oh my god, Mr. Murdock,” Peter said, horrified. Should he really be meeting up with this chick? “You’re like, okay, though, right?”

 

He laughed- there was no mirth in it, though, and his face was pale. “Uh. Mostly? Uh. Uh, then she, uh- then, uh, sh- she, uh, came back. She, uh, she didn’t try and, uh, kill me this time, though.”

 

Peter didn’t think that was a high bar, but he was apparently going to have to lower his expectations by at least 1200%. “Oh,” he tried. “That’s. Uh, that’s good.”

 

Matt nodded, so maybe he got it right? “Uh. She just, uh, sh-she, uh, needed my, uh. My help. Um. But, uh.” Peter glanced down; Matt was hitting the side of his leg with his fist. He didn’t know if he was supposed to stop him or not, so he let Matt do his thing for now. “She. Um. There were, uh. There were ninjas, and she, um.” 

 

Peter picked up a paper clip and handed it to Matt, who promptly started fidgeting with that instead; he seemed to settle a little, which Peter was pretty grateful for; he knew firsthand that Matt hit  _ hard. _ “Ninjas?” he prompted.

 

“Uh. Yeah. Uh, she… I-I thought. I, I, uh, I thought. I thought sh-she was, um, dead. For a, uh, for-for a while. But, um, the- the Hand, the ninjas, they, uh, they resurrected her.” He gave the paper clip a violent twist. “A-and then, um. Mil- mildly, uh, brain, brainwashed her. Sh-she, uh, fought me for, for a while. Me and, uh, Jess, and, uh, Danny, and Luke. Sh-she died. Again. Um, almost, almost took me with her. She, uh, she stabbed me and then. She kissed me and, uh, and, and held me there in-”

 

“In the collapse,” Peter realized. “That was the Midtown Circle collapse, right? When you disappeared for four or five months. Mr. Wilson was so upset. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that upset before.”

 

Matt nodded shakily. “I thought she was, um. I thought she was dead.”

 

“And now she’s asking…  _ me  _ for help?” He paused. “She’s not gonna kill me, is she?” He didn’t  _ think  _ so, not really, but after the story Matt just told, honestly, who knew?

 

“She doesn’t kill kids,” he said with sudden certainty. And whoa, there was definitely a story there- Matt’s eyebrows were twisted in anger, but Peter didn’t think it was directed at him. Peter wasn’t gonna ask, though.

 

“Okay. So I should meet her, right?”

 

His phone lit up with a message from Ned.  _ ooh spill _

 

“Yeah. She’s, she’s probably not gonna hurt you.”

 

“Okay,” he said. “Cool. Cool cool cool.” 

 

And then he went back to texting Ned, because, well, he wasn’t just gonna leave him on read. Also, as much as he loved the other members of Team Red, he knew the other NYC heroes needed a break from covering so much territory every night, so he had to make sure Wade and Matt made it back.

 

PP: ok so two things

 

PP: project- find a way to make a screen reader that reads multiple languages

 

PP: try gethub maybe? or just steal source code from JAWS, doesnt have to be commercially available (yet)

 

NL: lit

 

NL: ive been meaning to use sum skills 2 hlp disabled ppl

 

PP: also

 

PP: uh

 

PP: i *may* be meeting with some dangerous ppl tonight

 

NL: fun fun fun

 

PP: potentially as allies

 

PP: or maybe to help idrk

 

PP: theres also the possibility she just wants to kill me

 

NL: well ofc

 

NL: its not fun w o sum risk

 

PP: this is why i love u

 

NL: gay

 

PP: no shit

 

PP: anywya

 

PP: if i dont text by seven tomorrow, jst

 

PP: use plan 3

 

NL: 3 not 4? 

 

PP: matt’ll do it anyway if she kills me

 

NL: that works

 

PP: and not 5 b/c i’ll be in costume & i dont know the police here

 

NL: fair fair

 

PP: but from the sounds of things she doesnt really take prisoners

 

NL: so 1 & 2 are out

 

NL: yea that makes sense 

 

NL: cool cool cool

 

PP: thx love you

 

NL: ly2

 

NL: go meet this mystery chicc

 

PP: <3

 

NL: <3

 

Then Peter tapped over to text Hanta, because Hanta had the homework for math class and he definitely had not been paying attention in math. (Whoops.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry for the late update!!! my computer broke for a couple days and just decided to kill all the drivers & corrupt literally all my files so *that* was fun. thank god for google drive amirite
> 
> this was supposed to have a heavier bnha focus but then matt's secret, third quirk appeared: Backstory Dump
> 
> as always, comments & kudos are my caffeine! drop me a line


	20. Peter's Trying, Really He Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE read the end notes!!!!

Elektra was… unsettlingly similar to Matt.

 

She was sighted, but she had the same head movements he did when he was in the mask, the same sharp-toothed grin that carved its way up the right side of her face. They even had the same fighting style, as he quickly found out when Elektra whirled to face him and he was suddenly on his front, both arms pinned behind his back before he could even react.

 

“Wh-” He was about to shout for Matt’s help, or maybe for some taser webs- he wasn’t sure- when she jumped back like she’d been kicked. Peter noticed the way her fingers clenched in the black catsuit she was wearing, even under the long black coat that covered it, curling around the fabric like she wanted to rip it. “You’re Elektra?”

 

It was a stupid question, of course, but she nodded anyway, once, sharply. Peter waited for a second for any verbal confirmation, but no noise came from behind the red bandana that covered her nose and mouth. That was fine. He had experience with this stuff. “Can you talk?”

 

She nodded.

 

“You don’t want to?”

 

Another nod. “That’s okay. Can you sign?”

 

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and the motion looked almost sassy to him. Her fingers flowed over ASL that Karen translated, even though he didn’t need her to- _You speak ASL?_ She fingerspelled the last three letters, and he nodded. “Yeah. One of my vigilante friends is deaf, and I know there’s another one out there who’s mute. ASL seemed like a good idea.”

 

She nodded _. I need your help. Stuck in Japan._

 

“Uh. How do you mean stuck? Like, you don’t have the money to go back to the US, or wherever? You can’t physically go outside its boundaries?”

 

She held up two fingers, then flipped them over. _Second_.

 

“Of course. Magic. I can call someone who knows magic really well,” he tried, even though he got the feeling-

 

Three fingers pinching. _No._

 

“Yeah, figures. Look, I don’t have a place to stay, but I can try and get you set up with food. My aunt works at the homeless shelter-”

 

 _NO_ , she signed, with vigor.

 

“What do you want me to do?” he said. “I don’t know magic or anything like that. I don’t know how I can help.”

 

She paused. _Person keeping me here in hand._

 

“Can you repeat that?” Peter asked, because he didn’t understand. In hand?

 

She repeated the sentence. No, that was definitely hand- one coming to wave over the other, ending with wiggling her fingers.

 

“What do you mean, in hand?”

 

_Group. Name Hand._

 

Ah. She was being kept here by someone in a group called Hand.

 

Wait.

 

“Hand, like the ninjas that M-Daredevil keeps warning me off of?”

 

_Not so bad._

 

“He’s very insistent.”

 

 _Not so bad_ , she repeated _. Not hard to fight._

 

He took a deep breath. Because he couldn’t do this.

 

“Ms. Elektra, I- I can’t be a vigilante anymore,” he said nervously. “People know who I am and where I am. If I do this and get caught, I could be expelled or arrested. People know where to find me, and they know who my family is. If I do this, I’ll- I’ll be on the run from the police. Maybe forever. I don’t know.”

 

 _One time_ , she signed.

 

Peter took a deep, shuddering breath. “No.”

 

She tensed, and Peter had less than a fraction of a second where his spider-sense suddenly screamed at him to escape _escape **escape**_. He leapt into the air, dodging Elektra’s sai by a hair, and tried to web her to the ground. Her coat lay on the ground in front of him, and she cut his web out of the air! and lunged. Peter rolled, trying to get further away.

 

Just another enemy, he told himself, it didn’t matter what she’d done to Matt-

 

The sai lanced through the recently-patched latex on his cheek, grazing his face. He tried to take advantage of her closeness to grab her arm, but she turned it back on him, flipping him onto his back. He raised an arm as he did a little kip-up; she immediately thrust both of her sai into his abdomen.

 

It was over as quick as it started, leaving him panting and gasping for air as she pulled them out of his stomach.

 

“Peter, you appear hurt, with a stab wound grazing a nerve and your small intestine. Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?” Karen asked, but he paid her no attention; he was trying too hard not to writhe in pain because he knew it would only hurt even though his mind was telling him it would help.

 

Elektra sneered at him. She spoke for the first time- she had some sort of European accent, one that made him think immediately of wealth.

 

“I thought Spider-Man was supposed to help people.”

 

She put one sai through his leg, and he screamed as fire lit up his nerves. He couldn’t see for a second, tears stinging at his eyes. It wasn’t bleeding as much- the blade was still in his leg- but that wasn’t much solace.

 

For a second, he thought blindly, I’m going to die, as she held the other sai to his throat. At this point, he wondered if it would relieve the pain.

 

Then she dropped it atop his throat, point so dangerously close to his chin he was afraid to breathe. “I’ll be seeing you, Peter Benjamin Parker.”

 

She melted into the shadows, leaving him there in white-hot agony.

 

\-----

 

Time passed.

 

He didn’t know how long he was out there. He couldn’t muster the energy to call for help. But he knew he couldn’t keep bleeding out here.

 

He webbed his wounds, taking the web-shooters off and using them manually to reach the one on his abdomen. He webbed around the sai in his leg; it would at least keep him from bleeding out. And at least she’d left his arms open to swing; he batted the sai off his neck and managed to somehow push himself up.

 

Every time he shot another web, though, or reached the top of his arc, his stomach ached and throbbed. It sucked.

 

Matt was there to catch him as he reached the apartment, though; he was on the roof. “Oh God,” he said, frantically pressing a hand to the wound in Peter’s stomach. He was pale, and his eyes darted around frantically, even though they couldn’t see anything. Peter immediately felt bad for scaring him.

 

“Sorry,” he said as Matt helped him down the stairs.

 

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” Matt grimaced. As soon as they got to the bottom, they were confronted by May, who looked pale, too.

 

“Oh my God, Peter-” She helped Matt pick him up; he grimaced in pain as they carried him to the couch, which was folded out into his bed. He would have normally felt humiliated, but he only felt pain. It wasn’t like he’d never been stabbed before- it had just been a while, and-

 

“Poisoned,” Matt hissed, putting his nose close to the wound on his stomach. “None on the leg, though.”

 

Peter groaned. “Nnng. Your ex sucks.”

 

“You think?” he asked wryly, shooting Peter a grin that he couldn’t fully appreciate.

 

“We’re going to have to wash this out,” May said, running to grab the first aid kit from under the sink. Matt shook his head.

 

“Let me.” He hurried to his room, and Peter didn’t have the wherewithal to really follow him with his eyes, just breathed through the pain as Matt reemerged with his considerably heftier kit. May leaned over him.

 

“This is gonna hurt a lot, honey,” she said gently, and then pain washed over him and he just-

 

\------

 

He woke up in a lot of pain.

 

And promptly wished he could pass out again.

 

“Nng,” he managed intelligently. “Mm.”

 

May was at his side in an instant. “Now that you’re not bleeding out in front of me- what were you thinking?”

 

“Need’d help,” he mumbled. “Knew m’name.”

 

“So you tell me.” She handed him a glass of water and helped him sit up as he drank. “Tell me before you go out meeting mass murderers.”

 

“Didn’t tell you before I met Frank Castle,” he said without thinking.

 

She went white. “You met Frank Castle?”

 

Whoops. “I mean- not the Frank Castle, another Frank Castle.” Smooth, Parker.

 

“Peter Benjamin Parker-”

 

“No, but, uh,” he said defensively, “Mr. Castle likes me. He doesn’t kill kids.”

 

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” May muttered. She handed him the container of Advil. He poured five into his palm and downed them, then swallowed the rest of his water. “Tell me Matthew didn’t introduce you two.”

 

“No, Mr. Castle was looking for Mr. Murdock so he could fight him. I was with Mr. Murdock at the time.”

 

“Oh?” she asked. “And who won?”

 

“Mr. Castle,” Peter told her, “on the grounds that Mr. Murdock just ran away.”

 

“Did he now,” May said. “I wonder why that is.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, which wasn’t fair because she didn’t know the whole story.

 

“Because Mr. Castle was trying to get him to take a nap,” Peter explained. “Mr. Murdock tutored most of the younger vigilantes, but Mr. Castle basically adopted all of us. Like, all of us.”

 

“Lemme tell you- you guys have the weirdest hierarchy,” she said, handing him a sandwich. He wolfed it down in three bites, and she sighed and went to go make another one. “I’m not going to have to worry about being a target for Mr. Castle, am I?”

 

“Vigilante code,” Peter told her without looking up. “If you target someone’s family, everyone immediately considers you a Villain and will attack you as such. Vigilantes don’t attack family. Not even a Villain’s family. Neither do Heroes.”

 

“They’d get their licenses revoked, of course they don’t attack family,” May said, cutting the crusts off the three other sandwiches she’d made and giving it to him. He didn’t know why he was so hungry, but he ate those too. “Why don’t vigilantes attack families, though? Apart from your vigilante code or whatever, because we both know vigilantes don’t follow rules, that’s kind of their m. o.”

 

Because that’s what sets us apart from villains. “Courtesy. Plus none of us really want to. It’s not their problem, you know?”

 

“I hope you’re telling the truth,” she said. “Here. Your phone’s been blowing up.”

 

[POST TRANSCRIPT: instagram.archives12012901459@WHiHWorldNews.verified: 11/16/19 03:07:21]

 

 

Comments:

 

guyinthechair✔

If anyone has any news about how hes doing please let me know, nobodys telling me anythign and i dont want my best friend hurt thanks

 

View 92 more v

 

imnotdaredevil

@guyinthechair He is doing just fine. He’s been beaten up pretty badly, but he will make a full recovery.

 

therealspiderfan

@guyinthechair @imnotdaredevil oh oof. my bro told me abt how he got beat up at the usj recently, too, is this better or worse

 

imnotdaredevil

@therealspiderfan @guyinthechair He has a total of zero collapsed lungs this time.

 

sammysplannys

@imnotdaredevil @therealspiderfan @guyinthechair if thats baseline i dont wanna know what “worse than baseline” is

 

hawkeyesdeafears✔

@sammysplannys @imnotdaredevil hes exaggerating even i take a day off when ive been stabbed the hornhead is just Like That he fights on broken bones n shit, our nurse is fed up

 

NYCVigilanteFeed

sorry to hear that, hope he gets better!

 

View 40 more v

 

hannahmountaina

@NYCVigilanteFeed have u met spidey? he regenerates like fucking deadpool

 

wilsonswetdream

@hannahmountaina @NYCVigilanteFeed are you kidding me? spidey regenerates way slower than me. rude

 

hannahmountaina

@wilsonswetdream @NYCVigilanteFeed im so sorry mr. pool sir please dont kill me

 

wilsonswetdream

@hannahmountaina @NYCVigilanteFeed no promises! ^ಲ^

 

 

[Chatroom: Idiot Vigilante Support Group]

 

Members: Queens, Brooklyn, Pool, Jones, Cage, Fisty, Devil, Hawk, Punisher, Winter, BetterHawk, KPage, Ferret, Micro, Fogs, Ned, MJ, Trish, Nursey, Widow, GhostBro

 

Jones: Whats the word on Queens

 

Jones: Not that Im interested in him or anything but Im curious

 

Hawk: sut up jones yourse sa smittesn as the rest of us

 

Devil: He took two poisoned sigh to the stomach, which could have clipped his nerve or perforated his small intestine if Electric wasn’t good at what she did. He also took a sigh to the thigh.

 

Pool: sai coulf kill me and id thank her uwu

 

Devil: Sigh could find a way to make your death permanent and painful.

 

Ned: is he doing ok????? will he be ok

 

Ned: nobodys called me pls tell me whats going on

 

Devil: Queens received an email from Electric Nachos, also known as Sigh. She asked him by name for his help, and gave him a place to meat that was outside of my hearing rage. By the time I could hear him, it was our later, and he was swinging home while bleeding profusely. We have since stopped the bleeding and are treating his stomach wound with antibiotics, along with washing it out as often as we can, but he is still a sheet.

 

KPage: I want to clarify that her name is Elektra Natchios, also known as Sai. I assume that “a sheet” is supposed to mean “asleep.” Although a case could be made for his being as pale as a sheet.

 

Brooklyn: hes white as FUCK how does he get any whiter

 

Brooklyn: but im glad hes ok

 

Nursey: Sorry but this is one thing I cant help with

 

Nursey: I dont think I can fly to Japan on such short notice

 

GhostBro: im glad hes doing ok but i have some probalmes

 

GhostBro: faredevil was roght , a bunch of homophibes scame out and now they re tyrign ato find hpm

 

Widow: If they’re giving you any trouble I will break their kneecaps

 

Widow: Actually do you want a patrol buddy?

 

GhostBro: !!!!! ues plrase

 

Widow: I got you. Meet me in Chinatown tonight.

 

Queens: im so glad that my temporary death created such friendships

 

Brooklyn: QUEENS

 

Ned: Q U E E N S YOURE OK

 

MJ: Thank God.

 

MJ: Not that I’m happy about this, but Ned was insufferable.

 

Pool: BABY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Punisher: oh good youre up kiddo

 

Punisher: are you doing okay? need anything?

 

Queens: mr castle i recognize ur trying to replace all the father figures who died in my life but i swear im ok and also ur hella wanted for vigilantism & murder u cant just fly 2 japan

 

Brooklyn: nSKJDHGKJSDGH

 

GhostBro: PH THANK GOD HES ALOvE

 

Widow: That was never in question but go off I guess

 

Winter: ...Spidey, do you wanna talk about it?

 

Hawk: suht up sam youre not even on this cat

 

Hawk: just because you and jbb are off adventuring in croatia doesnt mena that u can just Grab his phone

 

Winter: I’m not sagan/.ddsaghyj 2332jih3/

 

Winter: sorry abt sam, but like srsly do u wanna talk

 

Winter: literally 75% of us have daddy problems its ok to speak up

 

Queens: i dont think i have ever been more embarrassed in my LIFE

 

Queens: jbb its ok i love u but im good

 

Punisher: i’m your dad now

 

Devil: That’s sweet, Frank, but you’re a mass murderer.

 

Ned: SDGHSDKGJHDSKGH

 

Queens: its ok now i have a trick to kill bad guys that never loses

 

BetterHawk: owo?

 

Queens: tell them i think of them as a father figure

 

Queens: they’ll be dead in <5 years

 

Brooklyn: Q U E E N S

 

Devil: Spider, do you want to talk about it?

 

Devil: I’m always here for you.

 

Queens: youre listening to my heartbeat you prick

 

Queens: you *know* i dont need to talk about it

 

Winter: humor isnt a real great coping strategy kid

 

KPage: Not that I’m complaining about the impromptu therapy, but: How did this conversation get from discussing how Queens’ Spiderman was grievously injured by Double D’s ex-girlfriend, all the way to discussing Queens’ Spiderman’s daddy issues?

 

Fogs: karen, i love you but shut up you have as many issues as the rest of us

 

Fogs: i think im the only one here whos trauma free

 

Ned: objection mr. nelson! me and mj are fine

 

MJ: I’m staying out of this.

 

Fogs: overruled thanks to mj, however, defending counsel will allow that mr. edward leeds likely has a clean bill of mental health.

 

Devil: That was funny, but sloppy lawyering.

 

Queens: how would u know?

 

Thundering footsteps, the crash open of a door, and Matt taking a few quick steps in his direction before-

 

“I can’t chase you, can I?”

 

“Nope,” Peter said cheerily, popping the P.

 

A pounding on the wall- some frenetic, angry Japanese.

 

Conspiratorially, Matt said- in quieter tones- “He says to shut up and go to bed because it’s 4 in the morning.”

 

Peter smiled and stretched himself deeper into the pillows. “Night, then, Matt.”

 

“Good night, Peter. Feel better, and feel free to wake either me or May up.”

 

He didn’t fall asleep immediately- his phone kept buzzing, but eventually, he stuffed it under his bed and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four things to cover in the notes:
> 
> 1- I'm so, _so_ sorry this chapter took me so long to get out there. Inspiration just wasn't having it, y'all. I had no idea where to go from here. I'm so sorry.
> 
> 2- Bad news: I'm taking a hiatus for camp, which runs until August 4, so the next update should be out by August 14. I'm sorry about it, y'all, but this one can't be avoided. I love my camps and I'm not ditching them to write for y'all, sorry.
> 
> 3-Good news: I can probably at least work on some chapters while I'm in Saratoga, though Charlton might be tricky. I can definitely reply to kudos and comments, though, and I'll be more inspired when I come back!
> 
> 4- As always, kudos and comments (the latter especially) is my caffeine! Keep me awake while I'm away at Skidmore, will y'all? I love you guys <3


	21. surprise! thought youd seen the last of me? hahaha n o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> red needed my help for the chapter since they were short on time so the second chapter of this fic ive made is a g o
> 
> (edit: its ya boi red, returning temporarily to the role of "editor" because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh tenses???? and prepositions??? and word choices??? im sorry i couldn't figure out what the fuck i was doing with this chapter BUT ILL DO THE NEXT ONE RIGHT IM SORRY)

“Aunt May? Where’d I put my phone?” Peter yelled into the next room as he stiffly stood. He still didn’t feel great- the pink flesh growing back was tender and rubbed uncomfortably against his clothes- but Matt had lent him an unbelievably soft hoodie. He was forgoing most of the suit for the day, sticking to sweatpants, a hoodie, and his mask. He even left the emergency shooters in his pack. 

 

“I don't know!” Aunt May yelled back. Peter grumbled a bit and searched for a solid ten minutes before finding it under his couch-bed.

 

He yelled, "FOUND IT!" before making his way for the door. Today was just going to be a laid back kind of day. He was gonna chill with the bros. Hang out with the guys. He was gonna dick around with his friends. Today, he was not the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, he was Petey Parker enjoying a day of school. 

 

He walked through the door awkwardly. His gait was kind of off- every step hurt. _Great, better see if the penguins of Madagascar want their walk back,_  he thought. He wasn't supposed to be sore because of how his meetup went. Definitely not. Couldn't have that.

 

No matter how many people had seen him and videoed it.

 

He slipped his headphones on and makes his way to the train station.

 

-

 

Peter slipped into his seat minutes before homeroom started. He sat quietly until one of his friends walks over.

 

“Hey, Spidey, bro! You okay?” Kirishima asked. Peter was kind of surprised.  _Kirishima is an acquaintance at most, so why is he asking if I’m okay?_ he wondered.

 

_Quick, think of something to say, but in b r o._

 

"Yeah, I’m totally baller, dude. Just a little sore, y’know?” 

 

Kirishima did not know, but Kirishima nodded like he did know.

 

Peter regretted everything. His entire side was sore and his leg hurt like a bitch.

  

A few more people come over and ask him if he’s okay. Damn, that Instagram post really did get popular, huh?

 

“Guys, I’m fine, really. My Quirk heals me fast so I’m almost completely healed already. You don’t need to worry,” he told them. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled under the mask.

 

Everyone calmed down and they idly chatted with each other before the bell rang. Aizawa rolled into the room and started homeroom.

 

-

 

It was lunchtime and Peter was regretting coming to school at all. His wounds were still tender and he just wants to sleep.

 

But he couldn't, so he just ate whatever Aunt May made for him. Normally he made his lunches, but since he got _stabbed_ the night before, she had made it instead. It kind of sucked - Aunt May wasn't the best at cooking - but at least it was food.

 

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Hanta asked him a question.

 

“Ahh, sorry, could you repeat that?” 

 

“I was just asking if you were excited for the sports festival.”

 

“The fuck is a ‘sports festival’?” he asked, curious.

 

“ _Dude,_ you don’t know what the _sports festival_ is?”

 

“Uh, no, that’s why I asked.”  


“It’s this whole event where the entire school competes against each other. In their own years, of course. Think of it like the Olympics, kind of,” Hanta explained. Peter nodded along with his explanation.

 

“So what are some events? Like, what do you _do_ at a sports festival?”

 

“Well, at UA we don’t know what events we’ll be doing beforehand. But last year, they had a tricked out maze and some scavenger hunt-esque events.”

 

“Oh, so like Field Day,” Peter said quickly. He realized his mistake as soon as he said it.

 

“What’s a ‘Field Day’?” Uraraka asked. Peter blanches. 

 

“It’s a day where the entire school, normally an elementary or middle school, goes outside and does a bunch of backyard games. Like egg toss, burlap sack, and wheelbarrow racing. It’s actually pretty fun, or so I’ve been told. New York doesn’t really have room for Field Days,” Peter explained. Uraraka nodded and leaned back into her chair.

 

“So it basically it's the sports festival, but more low-key?” she asked. Peter nodded. The table lapsed back into quiet chatter as Peter went back to eating.

 

-

 

The rest of the day passed by quickly. Peter took notes when needed and answered questions when asked. He noticed that he was getting better at Japanese, even if it was just a small amount better. It was still progress. 

 

He got stopped on his way out the gates of UA.

 

“Spidey! I’ve noticed we take the same route home, mind if me and Uraraka walk with you?” Izuku asked. Peter stared at him in silence for a few seconds. His cousin was perceptive, so he had to be careful about what he showed. 

 

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be nice having company for a bit.”

 

The three of them walked to the residential area, chatting quietly. Izuku asked about his Quirk and suit and Karen. Uraraka asked about his life in the US. For a few minutes, they just walk there in silence. 

 

Then Peter asked them about sports festivals of years past and Izuku was gone. Peter had to quickly put his hand over Izuku’s mouth when they got close to the building.

 

“This is my stop. See ya, guys!” Peter said, waving as he started walking down another street. He almost missed Izuku turning with him.

  

"Mine, too," he said, waving cheerily to Uraraka. The two cousins walked home together, Peter trying desperately to stay in Spider-persona and not in Peter-persona.

 

Hopefully, when he got home he could just pass out for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> i made this bc i was tired of seeing spiderman not have natural webs, also because i want to bullshit my way through spiderman producing natural webs and how that happens 
> 
> we're using tom holland spiderman mixed with spiderman ps4's aunt may because fuck you that's why
> 
> come join me on my server!: https://discord.gg/jrMpkkK
> 
> ps- if you join my server just to yell at me for inconsistencies with spiderman canon, in any form, i can guarantee im not gonna listen, this is my au and im not letting you ruin it for me and others


End file.
